It Will All Be Okay
by skyyador
Summary: Rated M for detailed torture and m/m rape. After Dean brought Sam back to the hunting life, they found themselves captured during their search for their dad. When Dean wouldn't give up the information the captive wanted, he thought he could break Dean with torture. Was he right? Could Dean be broken? Would the Winchester brothers ever be the same again? EDITED for minor corrections
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

"You're going to answer me, or I'm going to have one hell of a fun time killing you, understand me, boy?"

The voice that was shouting in front of him had grown low on patience. He was tired of the smartass comments coming from his latest victim. He didn't get the chance often, but not for the lack of trying. Every now and then he lucked out and found him someone to torture, someone to get information out of.

This time, he had found two someone's. Sure, he really only found the one, but he wasn't going to pass up the opportunity when the other arrived, searching to save his prized possession.

The skin on skin smack across his face sent his head flying to the side with a small grunt of pain. His body already ached. More than he could remember it ever hurting before.

He tried to think, but he couldn't. He couldn't remember how he had gotten to where he was at. His wrists were bound by ropes that were cutting through his skin, causing blood to trickle down his arms, dripping from his elbows and armpits onto the floor. The weight of his body had pulled the knots tight. His body swayed in the air around him, barely able to stretch as far as he could and allow his toes to touch the ground, to relieve some pressure from his arms. But, even that seemed pointless anymore. There wasn't much support to be given by the rope that held his wrists to the rafters above him.

Nothing seemed to help relieve the pain, or pressure. In fact, it only increased. He silently wished his captor would follow through on his word. He wished he would just end it all. But, he also wished he could get free, save the one who had come to save him.

He looked over to the other captive. Tears were streaming down his face. He was bound by chains around his ankles and wrists, to a solid brick wall. The chains were attached to bolts that were secured tightly to the wall. A gag was placed in his mouth, pulled so tight he could see the skin beneath it stretched and bruised.

Nothing stopped him from trying to scream. His face beat red from the tension building inside him. The chains didn't stop him from trying to fight and pull himself away from them. His wrists were also starting to bleed from the pressure he was applying to them, trying to get to the one he had come to save.

"I'm going to ask you again, names and locations." The abuser asked with a tone that said he wasn't playing anymore games with the man he had been speaking to.

"Fuck you!" The captive spit out at the man in front of him.

His body had already been beaten, covered in bruises from fists that had slammed into him and steel toe boots that had punished him for shooting off at the mouth. Broken ribs from the club that had more force behind it than it should have. There were cuts that layered his body, the bleeding stopped by the hot metal rod the man kept over the fire.

Some cuts were caused by his knife and some, by the whip he had used as an attempt to push him into submission. After he made the blood run freely, he would press the hot metal to the wounds, stopping the blood from emptying from his body. He said he couldn't have him bleed to death until he got all the information he could get from him.

The damp, dense air was polluted by the screams of the man who refused to fill the captor's request. A knife, slid down his arm, followed by the heat from the metal to stop the bleeding. The smell of burnt flesh assaulted his nostrils. His body trembled under the increasing pain. His throat was raw from the dryness of dehydration, mixed with the hoarseness from painful screams. But, he refused to give in, he would protect the wanted information with his life.

 _It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Just your ordinary salt and burn, if you could say there was anything ordinary about digging up a dead body and burning the bones that had rotted in the ground. But, something felt off about this hunt. Years of hunting experience told Dean Winchester to stay far away from this one, but his little brother insisted that it was an easy job, and it had been several weeks since they had a good job, so Dean, reluctantly agreed._

 _He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The information they had gathered sent chills down Dean's spine. There had been a few hunters before them, hunters who were damn good. Hunters who had years more experience under their belts than the Winchester brothers. They had attempted and failed. Not only did they fail, but they ended up missing. Completely disappearing. No bodies, no clues, vanished from the earth._

 _So, that left the question, was it really going to be that simple after all?_

 _Sam insisted it was. He did his research and everything seemed to line up. It didn't take him long to figure out who the spirit was and where they were buried. Dean had tried to get Sam to stay at the motel, he told him he could do this himself, that if others had disappeared he didn't want his brother to be added to the numbers._

 _Actually, he had tried to talk his brother out of it all together, said the information was too easy to find, that something was off about it, but Sam insisted that he was doing this job, with or without Dean. And, with the feeling welling up inside of the older brother, there was no way he was going to let Sam handle this one alone._

 _Of course, Sam pouted about how he wasn't a kid anymore, and if Dean was soooo concerned then he should be worried about himself too, so Sam needed to be with him, to protect him._

 _Dean agreed, not that he had much of a choice. But, he insisted that he would be the one to dig up the grave. He needed Sam to keep watch, in a safe hiding place. He didn't want the spirit to see him, or know he was there. He figured that would be their only defense against something that had taken hunters before them._

 _They had agreed that if anything happened, if Dean ended up disappearing, that Sam would leave the area. He would keep himself hidden, and take everything he witnessed to find his older brother. He was instructed to go back to the motel and do his research before coming to look for him, there was no point in trying to rescue him without all the necessary information. They knew from experience, no one really ever disappears. They are just taken captive, hidden well enough that no one ever finds them._

 _They scoped out the area, found a place for Sam to lay low, and Dean started digging. He had gotten about half way down when he started feeling weird. His head started spinning. He felt like he was having difficulty breathing. Spots danced in front of his eyes._

 _He knew he had drank enough fluids that day, and they had just eaten not too long ago, so he figured it was exhaustion. He hadn't been sleeping too well. He wasn't sure why, it was just something about this job that kept him up at night._

 _He noticed his hands had started shaking, making it hard to hold onto the shovel, but he couldn't say anything to Sam. He didn't want his brother anywhere near this grave. He didn't even want him anywhere near this hunt. It was mostly dark out, there was still a little light, but not enough that Sam was able to see how much Dean was struggling._

 _Before Dean realized what had happened, he had collapsed into the hole he was digging. His brain was foggy and couldn't seem to think straight. He tried to get himself out of the hole as claustrophobia started setting in, but he couldn't seem to get his brain to figure out what he was supposed to do in order to get out of there._

 _Sam kept a close eye on his brother. He couldn't see inside the grave, but started getting concerned when his brother fell into it and hadn't resurfaced. He saw Dean's hand grabbing the edge then slipping back down again. He was just about to leave his hiding spot, and run to help his brother, he had opened his mouth to scream his name, but, before any sound came out he quickly stilled and closed his mouth._

 _A man had stepped out of the shadows, he was standing beside the grave his brother had dug._

 _Dean looked up through the fog that was clouding his vision, and mind. He saw a fuzzy outline, of a man. He knew it wasn't his brother, but wasn't sure if it was a real body or a spirit of some kind. The man had reached down, grabbed Dean by his collar and pulled him out of the grave._

 _Dean's body was shaking, but was lucid, his arms hung limp by his side, his head fell backwards, his legs weren't supporting his weight. The man had pulled him out of the grave and was holding him up by the front of his shirt, at least an inch off the ground. Not that it mattered since Dean's legs weren't holding him up anyhow. Sam could hear a laughter come from the man. One that sounded malicious and evil. He watched in horror as he dragged his brother into the shadows where he had come from._

 _Sam waited a minute, to be sure the coast was clear and followed the path the man had taken with his brother. It took him longer than he had hoped to find where Dean was being kept, but once he found it, he also found himself stuck in a trap. There was a fog that surrounded him, making him feel lightheaded and unable to concentrate on anything. His lungs felt as heavy as his legs did as he collapsed to the ground._

"Names and locations." The man said again.

Dean gave a small smirk. "Fuck you!" He repeated as his head felt like it was just punched off his shoulders. He was sure he was going to suffer from whiplash when this was all over.

Sam pulled against his chains, screaming under the gag.

"You just think you're so smart, don't you?" The man asked. "You know, you're not the first hunter I've had to deal with. You are all the same. You try to act all big and tough at first, then you end up breaking, giving me the information, I'm wanting. They always do, every single one of you. You're not as tough as you think you are. So how about you save yourself some pain and give me the names and locations of the hunters you know about. I just want to pay them a friendly visit."

The man smiled at Dean, like he was expecting him to believe that anything he had planned was friendly.

"Fuck. You." Dean repeated, gasping between words.

Another punch to the face, followed by the hot metal being pushed into his shoulder. He didn't even bother cutting him first, it was for the pure pleasure of causing him pain, not as a measure to keep him alive.

The air was filled with Dean's screams, once again. And Sam struggled to get to his brother, screaming for the man to stop, under his gag. Dean's screams seemed to weaken every time they were forced out of him.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean huffed out once the hot metal was removed from his burning flesh.

"You ready to give me what I'm asking for now?"

"Go. To. Fucking. Hell." Dean spat out between puffs of breaths.

He could feel his body weakening, but his mind was still strong, and he wouldn't, he couldn't, give this man the information he was asking for. He couldn't just hand over other hunters to him. Their fates would be sealed, they would possibly find themselves in the same place Dean was, or maybe they wouldn't even be given a chance. Just a quick hole in the head.

That would be a lot better than this, Dean thought to himself. Oh, how he would long for a simple hole in his brain compared to this, but then there was Sam. He looked over at his brother, fear in his tear-filled eyes. He was okay. He hadn't been hurt, not yet anyhow, but Dean knew if he wasn't here, then it would be Sam going through this hell. If Dean allowed himself the pleasure of unconsciousness, his brother would pay for it. If he didn't keep fighting, then Sam would soon find himself in the fight of his life.

NO, Dean wouldn't let that happen, as long as he could help it, as long as he was still able, he would protect his little brother. That had always been his job. It was the one thing that never changed in his life, the one thing he would die doing. It was the most important thing.

'Bring it on' Dean's brain told the man in front of him. He was thankful that he only said it in his mind, because his body didn't feel as strong. His body didn't want anymore of this punishment. His body was screaming at his mind to shut up.

The man noticed the change in Dean's demeanor. "Do you like this?" He chuckled.

Dean clenched his jaw, not giving the man the satisfaction of receiving an answer. Even his 'fuck you' was off the table now. He was no longer going to respond to him with words. No longer going to give him a response to anything he said.

His body, of course, would betray him. That, he was sure of. Give it some more pain and it would react accordingly. It would even force the sounds of screams from his throat, but his mind, wasn't going to allow those sounds to form words.

The man, clearly angered by Dean's new defiance, took the whip to him. Beating him across the back, at first, then moving down his legs and then to his chest. Dean's body did as he expected. The groans that he tried to fight off, quickly turned to painful screams. His body shook and shuttered under the force of the object striking his body, leaving whelps and lacerations covering his already abused skin.

Dean screwed his eyes closed, willing the pain to stop, willing the whip to stop, willing the man to get tired, to need rest. Anything, anything to make this stop, to make his rebelling body calm back down.

He could hear Sam mumbling his screams, his chains rattling as he pulled tightly against them, begging the man to stop, but unable to get the words past his lips.

It started feeling hard to breathe. Dean was sure it was due to the pain, and the anxiety it brought on that threatened to shut his body down. He tried to concentrate on his breathes. In and out. In and out. Slow. Deep. Slow. In. out. Slow.

What felt like hours, days, maybe even weeks, but was probably only a few minutes, the torture had stopped. His body continued to shake and tremble as it swung in the air, suspended by ropes tied above him. His screams quieted to groans of pain, not by choice, but because the exhaustion and weakness had taken over.

No. He couldn't allow himself to become weak. He had to stay strong. Stay strong for Sammy. Stay strong. Breath. Calm. Deep. In. Out.

The man laughed, causing Dean to allow his eyes to slide halfway opened. The man stood in front of him, pleasure on his face.

"Well, well, well." The man said as he walked around Dean's swinging body, giving him a push to make him swing harder. "You're going to be a pistol to break, aren't you? Is it because of your little friend over there? And who exactly is he to you?"

He didn't know. He didn't know they were brothers. He didn't know who they were. The only thing he knew was that Dean was a hunter who had fallen into his trap, a promise of an easy job always seemed to get them where he wanted them.

In fact, Dean wasn't even sure the man knew that Sam was a hunter. He only knew he came looking for him, tried to save him. Maybe that's why he hadn't touched Sam? Maybe that's why all of his concentration was on Dean.

He thought about it for a minute, maybe he could use this knowledge for his advantage. But, he'd have to speak, for two reasons, one, so he could make up a story about who Sam was, and two, so Sam would know the story as well. But, he was speaking on his terms this time, so it was okay, it would all be okay.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

"He's nobody to me!" Dean replied.

The man chuckled in reply. "Oh, really? Then tell me, why the hell did he come looking for you?"

"I don't know, maybe because I never made it back?"

Dean wasn't even sure how much time had fell between when he was captured and when Sam was. He didn't even know how long either of them had been in this makeshift hell.

"Then he's someone to you."

"Just a family friend."

"mmhhmm." The man didn't seem to be completely buying his story.

"Look, believe me or not, I don't really give a shit. I didn't want the asshole hanging around me anyhow. You fuck up one little hunt and all the sudden you're given some jerk to 'watch over you'. I mean, seriously, does he look like he could watch over me? He doesn't even know anything about this life. He was just sent to fucking babysit, and doesn't even know how to use a damn gun! Besides, it's not like I've ever needed anyone watching over me!"

Dean was letting his anger for this situation take over his tone. He wanted it to sound real, like he was annoyed and upset that the man was there to begin with. Which wasn't completely untrue. He hadn't wanted to take this hunt, but Sam had insisted. And, now, Sam was there, exactly where Dean didn't want him.

"Is that true, boy?" The man walked in front of Sam, grabbing his chin in his hand.

Dean tried to look at Sam, give him a slight nod and plead with his eyes. Plead for him to go with his story. It might be his only chance of salvation. If he could get Sam out of there, somehow get him away, then Sam could figure out how the hell to save him, but if not, at least Sam would be safe, and really, that's all that mattered.

Sam mumbled and nodded his head.

"Seriously?" Dean scoffed. "You ever see a hunter cry like that?"

He had driven his point home. The man tossed Sam's face out of his hand.

"Damn, weak, ordinary ass humans. I can't stand them. They cry like little bitches. And whine over every damn thing!" He said, spinning back around to look at Dean.

Dean had released a sigh of relief. Now, if only he could figure out how to get Sam out of there. But, at least the man wouldn't be going after his brother. He had no reason to.

He spun back around, looking at Sam. "You gonna go home and cry to Mommy? Are you going to be traumatized for life? Aww are these visions going to keep you up at night?" He was mocking him, making his best impression of a crybaby running home to his mommy.

Sam tightened his jaw around the gag, but, he couldn't let his act down, he had to keep being… well, being Sam. Because, hunter or no hunter, that's who he was. He didn't give two shits about shedding tears for his brother. Yes, he was emotional. No, hunters were not usually emotional. But, there was nothing normal or usual about Sam Winchester. And, he could make any story believable, even if it involved his brother being tortured before his very eyes. He trusted Dean. He knew Dean wouldn't make up a story like that unless he had a plan.

The man turned back to Dean, grabbing his face. "How about we give him something to run back to Mommy about?"

Dean's eyes widened when the man placed a hand on Dean's back, keeping him from swinging away, and pressed his body against Dean's crotch. Oh god, he had hoped that his mind was just running wild, that it didn't mean what he thought it did.

No, no, no, there was no way he could let that happen. Especially in front of Sam. But, he wasn't exactly in a place where he could fight it either. His heart skipped a few beats, that he was sure of. His breath hitched. His body started trembling with the fear of the unknown.

The man gave Dean a smirk and ran his tongue across his lips as he reached up, with the knife that had so easily slid through his skin so many times, and cut the rope that tied his hands above him.

His wrists were still bound together, but his body had crashed to the ground with a thud. He was unable to catch himself. He landed with a grunt of pain as his right ankle folded under the weight of his body. He was pretty certain he just broke it, if not, it was badly injured the way it just twisted and there was no mistaking the pain that shot through his leg.

Relief. That's what he felt. He didn't feel the fear he had just a moment before. It was replaced with a feeling of relief. The pressure against his arms was gone, his weight no longer hanging from the thin rope that was tight around his wrists. His shoulders no longer bearing the feeling of being pulled from his body. Instead, his body was being supported by the ground.

He had forgotten how good support felt. He didn't care that he had a puddle of blood he landed in, or that someone else's blood had been there before his.

He just wanted to sink into the floor. To become one with the earth. To never leave the comfort of the support it offered. He closed his eyes, even though it was only for a moment. He could breathe again. His body could relax under the trembling muscles that ached to be unstretched.

His body was lifted, pulled across the floor. He couldn't even resist it. His body had given into the solidness of the floor, refusing to release itself from the support that no longer required his every muscle to strain.

"It's show time!" The man exclaimed. "This is going to be SOOO much fun! You just wait and see, you're both going to enjoy it!" The man's tone was filled with excitement and anticipation.

The only article of clothing Dean had on were his boxers. He was stripped of everything else somewhere between getting captured and waking up tied to the ceiling. The man wasn't even gentle about it. He grabbed his boxers, tearing them off, leaving Dean completely naked and exposed.

Not that it really mattered. In fact, when you live the life they have, you lose some of your modesty, okay almost completely all of it. You lose personal space, and you see each other naked more times than you care to. So, this was no different, except, it was. It was way different. Dean wasn't sure how, or why, but it was.

His brain didn't seem to want to work. He had removed his boxers. He was… he was… laying on something, something hard and cold. Metal. It was metal, and it was cold as hell, which actually felt good against his burnt flesh. He pressed his chest against the coolness, trying to find anything to comfort the pain.

His chest… his stomach… oh god, he was laying on his stomach, on a cold, metal table, completely naked. He tried to move his legs but couldn't. They were tied to the legs of the table. When had that happened? When were the ropes tightened around his ankles? Pain. He felt pain, like his wrists, like the sharpness of the ropes cutting through the skin around his ankles.

On his stomach, on a cold metal table, of some sort. Naked. His legs tied to the table. His arms… he tried to move his arms. They were pulled above his head, somehow tied, to something. Either way, he couldn't move them. He couldn't move anything. He couldn't fight.

Oh god, he couldn't fight. He… he couldn't struggle… he couldn't get away… but, get away from what? Away from the table, away from the nakedness. Away from… the hands… the hands that were now touching him. Why were they touching him? And… why… why there?

He heard the man's voice, but he couldn't understand the words they were saying. He felt dizzy. Felt like… lips… those were lips, touching his. And… tongue? Was that… the man's tongue? Licking across Dean's lips. He wasn't sure, but he thinks the table was spun around. He opened his eyes. When had he closed them?

Sam. Sammy. Oh god. Sammy. He opened his eyes and was staring at his little brother. Tears were streaming down his cheeks. He looked so young, but then again, he's always looked young to Dean. No matter how old he got, he would always be his baby brother. But, now his baby brother was tied and gaged and… scared… he was scared, and, was that some sort of sympathy in his eyes?

The voice, it wouldn't stop. Dean didn't even know what it was saying, so why did he keep talking? The hands were back. They were touching his ass. Was there a woman that he had missed somehow? No, those weren't gentle touches. Those were… oh… those were man hands. THE man? Yes. The voice, the hands, the lips and tongue, they belonged to the same person. They belonged to the man who had beaten him.

Dean closed his eyes. His head was spinning with confusion and he felt bile rise up in the back of his throat. He fought to keep it down. His eyes shot opened, wide, when he felt the man's fingers press against his opening.

NO! no, that's exit only, buddy. Dean thought, but was unable to speak. His breath was no longer slow and steady. It was rapid, too fast, in fact. His heartrate matched his breaths. Breaths? More like pants. He was panting for air, trying to fill his oxygen starved lungs. When had he quit breathing? When had he held his breath for so long that his lungs were burning?

He felt a rope pull tight around his throat, blocking off the oxygen, once more. That must be it. He wasn't holding his breath, he was being choked. Panic set in, making the breaths that much harder to take in. Panic, rising from deep inside of him.

Dean pulled on his restraints as realization struck him, and when it did, it struck him hard. He was naked, tied to a table, on his stomach, with the man touching his ass, the tip of his finger threatening to enter his body, and a rope tightened around his throat, long enough to starve his lungs, but not long enough to suffocate him. Oh god. No. this cannot be happening.

Close your eyes, Sammy. Close your eyes. Was all Dean could think as he screwed his eyes closed as tight as he could. Wishing he was able to speak, wishing he could tell Sam to look away. He didn't want his brother to witness what he was sure was about to happen.

The pain shot through his body. The rope was loosened, allowing the weak screams to fill his ears. His eyes shot opened, and there was Sammy again. Tears even harder than before, if that was even possible.

His body felt like it was being torn on the inside. The pain in his stomach was almost more than he could handle. He felt the man's body touch his. He was fully inside of him, and being none too gentle. He pulled away and slammed back, deep, inside of him. He repeated it, tightening the rope around his neck, enjoying the sensation it gave, loosening it to give Dean some much needed air, only to repeat again and again.

He wasn't stopping. Oh god. Dean wanted, no, he needed, him to stop. He couldn't handle any more of this. The pain was worse than anything he had ever felt before. Sure, he knew what pain was, there was no doubt about that, but this, this was worse than he ever imagined it could be. His battered body was protesting against his attempts to fight, to get away, but he continued anyhow. He pulled against the ropes that held him down, tightly. He was bent over the table, completely exposed.

He opened his eyes again. When had he been turned? Where was Sammy? Fear and shock filled his nerve ends when he realized the table was turned so Sam had to watch what the man was doing to him. He was somewhat relieved that he didn't have to look at Dean's expressions anymore. Because, he knew he couldn't even try to hide the pain he was in. But this, this was probably worse. His little brother was having to watch this man pound himself into Dean.

Please, Sammy, please have your eyes closed, was all Dean could get his brain to make sense of.

Finally. Finally. With a couple more, harder than normal, thrusts and the man had left a part of him inside of Dean. The rope around his throat held tight until he had completely finished.

He collapsed onto Dean's back, not removing himself from the feeling he had just enjoyed. Dean was thankful it was over, even though it didn't hurt any less, but now, all he wanted was for the man to pull himself out of his body. He didn't want to be a part of him, he wanted his body back, all of it. None of it was for this man to keep.

After the man finished huffing and puffing, hot breaths blowing in Dean's ear, and regained himself, he pulled himself out of Dean, giving him a hard smack to the ass.

"Told you it would be fun!" The man smirked.

Dean closed his eyes as he was spun back around to look at his brother. At some point, he wasn't sure exactly when, he had lost his fight with holding back the bile that wanted to exit his throat. His face was laying in his own vomit. The smell was barely noticeable to him through everything else his body was experiencing at the same time. But, he could feel the wet, stickiness of it.

The same as he could feel the wet, stickiness running down his legs. He was sure it was a mixture of what was left inside him, and his own blood. But, he had no idea how much was blood and how much wasn't. it didn't feel like small trickles of fluid, it felt more like it was running, freely, down his inner legs, dripping to the floor.

He barely found the strength to open his eyes to look at his brother, even though he could only hold them opened half way, he still gave it an effort. He wanted so badly to tell his brother it would be okay. He would be okay. He just needed a minute. He just needed to let the pain dull down.

Suddenly his ears were full of his own screams again. His eyes shot wide opened then screwed shut again, at some point he had found them wide opened again. It was like his eyes didn't even know what to do, how to react to what was happening. They rolled in the back of his head before it was over.

Sam watched in horror, unable to warn his brother, as the man made his way to the fireplace, he grabbed the hot metal that was a glowing red and with a hard, fast thrust, he forced it inside Dean. He forced it where his body had just violated him.

"Can't have you bleeding to death on me, that was way too much fun!" The man said.

Dean didn't hear it, how could he? Not only were his ears filled with his own screams, and the muffled sounds coming from his brother, but there was this non-stop ringing that wouldn't leave his head. It was so high pitched, it felt like his head was going to explode.

He had wished it would explode, at least the pain would stop. He needed unconsciousness. That was all he could think of, he couldn't understand why he was fighting it so hard, why he couldn't just give in. It was there, right at the edge of his vision. He could see it, wanting Dean to grab a hold, but for some reason he couldn't. He needed to stay awake.

He couldn't remember why, but he was sure it was for a good reason. The pain, it just kept increasing, it wouldn't stop. Why did this have to hurt so bad? Wasn't the human body supposed to go numb, or something like that, after so much pain? Or, maybe it was just supposed to quit, to die. People could die from pain, right? Dean was sure if someone could die from pain, then he would already be dead. Maybe he was and just didn't know it?

Why wasn't his brain working? Why couldn't he concentrate on anything? Where was he? What was going on?

The ground. He was back on the floor. Okay. Not sure when that happened, but not going to complain about it either. That means it's over. The man, the hot fire, the pain was still there, still intense, but it wasn't getting worse, it wasn't going to get worse because he wasn't on that table anymore.

He was curled into a lifeless ball in the support of the floor. Pain shooting through his body like bolts of lightning. It was quiet. He couldn't remember it being so quiet. No screams. No voices. No ringing in his head. Just, complete silence. And darkness. Everything was so dark. Silent and dark.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Confusion had set in, once more. He wasn't sure where he was or what the hell was going on. All he knew is his body hurt like a bitch and he was being dragged across the floor.

Darkness. There was darkness, and silence. Shit! He had fallen asleep, or actually, passed out would probably be a better explanation.

The coldness against his abused skin. Naked. Ropes, again. NO! his brain shouted, but he couldn't seem to speak. Sam's muffled sounds were filling the silence. He couldn't do this. No, not the table, not THAT table. No.

He tried. He tried to fight, tried to get away, but he was too weak, too exhausted. He couldn't. Fear rose in him like a hot fire catching a line of gasoline. The table. The table. The table. That's all Dean could seem to get through his brain. He wasn't even exactly sure why he was so scared of 'the table' but, he was, and, he knew it was an important reason, he just couldn't remember.

God, he wished Sam would just shut up. His muffled cries did nothing to help him feel better. But, then again, neither did this! He thought as his eyes shot opened with the pain that entered his body as the man pushed himself back inside.

Oh... that's why, that's why the fear for the table. Now he remembered, a little too late, but hey, at least he remembered, right? Now, he wished he hadn't. He knew it was worse this time. The pain was far worse. Probably because now, he was working against torn, abused, burnt flesh. Before it had been just sensitive, skin that he had to tear through, but now he was reopening old wounds and tearing through the burns he caused.

He couldn't even scream. Not this time. The pain was too much. Instead of the rope, the man wrapped his hands around Dean's throat, breaking off the oxygen supply his lungs so badly needed. He heard him say something about good. Something about feeling good, when he chokes him. The thought sent bile rising through the back of this throat and finding its way under his face. Again. Man, this has got to stop. When did my body become such a wimp? Dean thought to himself.

Of course, if he was being honest with himself. His body was being pretty damn strong considering everything it had endured, but Dean couldn't be honest with himself, he couldn't even get his mind to work properly. He couldn't completely register everything that was going on, or that had already happened.

He was pretty sure, when the man wasn't choking him, this time, he was punching him in the ribs and on his back, he thinks he said something about the pain tightening him? Making it feel good. Yeah, okay, it feels good to him, he gets it. But, Dean had to disagree, nothing about this felt good.

He couldn't even really tell what 'this' was anymore. Lightning strikes of pain were running through his body, shooting out of every nerve ending. It was all a big blur of pain. He wasn't sure what hurt, and what didn't anymore. He figured there probably wasn't anything that didn't hurt. His shuddering body was defying his will to keep control over what little he had left. The shaking, his body was shaking so hard. It was freezing, actually. And damn, did it make everything hurt that much worse!

"Dad, please…. Help." Dean mumbled under his breath in the most pathetic pleading tone he could have possibly come up with. If his mind had been working he would have kicked himself for sounding so pathetic.

Sam's heart dropped to the floor. Here his brother was, being beaten and raped beyond what anyone should ever experience and he just begged his dad to come and help him.

Sam almost laughed at the thought. Their dad had been missing. They had tried to find him. Dean even pulled him away from college to find him. They had tried to call him, but didn't even get an answer. Not a hello, good bye, fuck you… nothing.

There was no way the man was going to show up now. No way he was going to save them. But, Dean still kept his blind faith in the man. Why? Sam had no idea. But, he was pretty sure he was going to hang from the chains and watch his brother die, begging for their dad to save him.

"I'm your daddy now!" The man smirked through the huffs of breath as he forced himself inside of Dean with a vengeance.

Dean's eyes rolled in the back of his head, his breaths were coming in short puffs. He hadn't even realized it was over. Didn't know the man had finished, once again, leaving part of him behind.

Again. Blood poured down Dean's legs. This time. He was turned so Sam could see the amount of blood, instead of his face. And he felt his own bile rise into his mouth. He gagged as he swallowed it back down.

He watched as the man forced the red-hot metal rod into his brother. Sure, it stopped the bleeding, but the amount of pain it caused his brother was more than he could handle. His body shook, hard. Sam wasn't sure that his brother wasn't having a seizure from shock.

Sam had stopped trying to fight against the chains, he grew tired of screaming gagged screams. His mind just wanted to shut down, to forget everything he had seen. He closed his eyes, gently blocking out the sight in front of him. But, he couldn't block out the sounds, or the smell of burning flesh.

He only opened his eyes when he heard his brother's body hit the floor with a loud thud. And the heavy door squeak open and slam closed, the same as before. Sam figured, perhaps, it was night time, again. He figured that's where the man went to the last time he had left, he figured he needed sleep.

So, did Sam, and Dean, god they needed sleep, not unconsciousness, like Dean was currently in, but actual sleep, in an actual bed, not being beaten on or raped. He started letting his mind drift. He jumped as he was startled by the sound of the heavy door opening again. And the man returning.

He should have figured they wouldn't get so lucky. Now that he thought about it, it didn't seem like it was long enough to be an entire day, but then again, he didn't have a clue who this man was. Maybe he had a day job and only entertained himself once he got home?

He didn't know how much time had passed between times, could have been hours for all he knew. Either way, his brother had suffered enough for one day, hell, he's suffered enough for an entire lifetime. But, the man didn't seem like he was finished, yet.

He grabbed Dean, pouring ice cold water over his face, shocking him back awake with a gasp and wide, wild eyes. He lifted Dean, slamming him into a hard, wooden chair. Dean gasped and winced at the pain sitting caused, especially with the force it involved. The man tied Dean's hands behind the chair. There really wasn't even any need for that, it's not like he had anything left in him to fight with.

"Ready to talk now?" The man asked as he sat in a chair across from him.

Dean barely found the strength to lift his head, and hold his eyes opened long enough to lock glances with the man. He tried, he really did, but he couldn't get the wheels in his brain to work. He couldn't remember what he needed, or didn't need, to talk about.

"Hunter's names, and locations. NOW!" The man shouted angrily when he didn't get an immediate answer.

Oh, yeah, hunters. Names. Why did he need names? Didn't he already know who they were? And… where they were? Or at least how to get into contact with them, because everyone knew not all hunters stayed in one place for very long. If he knew about hunters. He should have known the answer to his question, so… why was he asking Dean?

Hunters. Names. He honestly couldn't think of any. He knew that he knew, but he couldn't remember, couldn't manage to think straight. Hunters. Dad, he needed Dad. Why the hell did he hurt so bad? Why did he feel so tired, so exhausted?

There was another large splash of ice cold water to his face, that sent shock waves through the pain. He gasped again.

"Names, locations!" The man repeated.

Dad. I need Dad. I don't know what's going on. I don't know where I'm at. I need Dad. That was all Dean could manage to get through his brain.

"Dad." He said out loud, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

"Who is your dad?" The man asked, he was getting really upset with Dean's lack of response.

"Dad… help… please." Dean begged in a voice barely above a whisper.

Another ice-cold splash to the face, drenching his body, once more, sending him into uncontrolled shivers. A punch to the face caused his head to feel like it spun around 360 degrees. His vision was already as blurred as his brain was. His hearing was starting to sound muffled. It was hard for him to concentrate on the words the man in front of him was saying.

Who was the man in front of him? He couldn't really see him, and now it was getting hard to hear him too, but, who was he? He wasn't anyone he knew and trusted, that was for sure.

"Who… who are…. You?" Dean managed to force the question out.

The man laughed. "I'm your worst nightmare, son."

"Not… not… my… dad! Nnnnot… Your… Son!" Dean mumbled before the man's fist contacted his face, causing blood to spew from his lips and nose.

Dean closed his eyes, not tight, just enough to let the pain wash over him and calm back down.

"Now, I'm only going to ask you this one more time, or I'm going to shoot your friend over there." The man said, pointing toward Sam with the gun that was now in his hand.

He turned Dean so he could see who he was talking about. Sam. It was Sam. Friend? Sam was his brother.

"Names of all the damn hunters you know, and their locations!"

Dean crinkled his forehead, confusion flooding his face. "I… I don't… know… I… wh…what's gggoing on?... Where… I… don't… understand."

The words were hard for Dean to get out, and something, somewhere, told him he wasn't supposed to be using words, but he didn't understand, he wasn't sure what the man was saying or what he was wanting.

The man slammed the gun against the side of Dean's head. "How about I just shoot you, then? Put you out of your misery?"

Sam started his mumbled cries again, pulling against the chains. His brother had fought so hard, hell, he was still fighting. There was no way Sam could sit there and watch his brother be shot. If this killed him, if he died from the torture, then at least he went down swinging, protecting everything he held precious. But a gunshot was a loser's way out. It was too simple, too clean, too easy.

"But, first…" The man chuckled. "How about a little more fun with that ass of yours?"

He grabbed Dean from the chair and pulled him to the table. Instantly, without knowing why, Dean found some buried strength, it was hidden somewhere deep, but it surfaced, just enough for him to try to put up a fight when they approached the table. There was something about that table. Something that scared the hell out of him. Something he didn't want.

"NO!" Dean shouted as he tried to struggle away from the man.

Somehow, he managed to pull his arm out of his grip, and he stumbled backwards, falling onto the floor, and he scurried his way across the floor, away from the man, and huddled into a corner.

The man, he stood there and laughed. He knew there was no way Dean could get away. The room was locked up tight. But, he found it interesting that Dean managed to still have that kind of strength and will power after all the torture he had been through.

"Maybe I won't shoot you, not just yet." The man said with a grin. "You're the most interesting catch I've had yet. Maybe, we'll just see how much you can take, before your body goes with your mind." The man smirked as he grabbed Dean's arm, forcing him back to the table.

Dean was submissive, until they reached the table. His eyes went wide, and a wildness filled them as he tried to fight his way away from there, again. This time, the man was ready, and Dean's will power and fight was met by the end of the whip.

"Or, maybe you would like to trade places with your friend? Huh? Give yourself a break?" The man smirked when he stopped whipping Dean.

"NO! leave… leave him… alone." Dean gasped out in pain.

Dean was still confused, not sure what he didn't remember, not sure why he was so damned scared of that table, but he knew he didn't want Sam anywhere near it. He knew he had to protect his brother from whatever it was he was so scared of.

Sam had to admit he was shocked, he thought his brother was on death's doorstep, but now he was putting up a fight, and a pretty damn good one at that. He knew it was driven by fear, fear of the table. For a brief moment he wondered if Dean would ever be able to look at a metal table without running in fear again. That could be a problem, since all autopsy tables were metal.

And, just like that his thought deflated. If. If they ever made it out of here alive, maybe that would come up. But, he didn't see any hope in making it out alive. Especially not Dean. Even though he had surprised him with his latest burst of energy, but he still knew his body could only last so long, and his mind seemed to be about gone, already.

Dean's cries filled the air as Sam realized he had zoned out and he was now watching a repeat of earlier, again. His brother, tied to the table he hated, being violated and abused by a stranger. When the man collapsed onto Dean's back, Sam closed his eyes.

He knew nothing would block the sound and smell, but he knew what was coming next, and he couldn't. He just couldn't watch that happen again. He couldn't watch his brother being burned, literally, from the inside out.

The strangled sobs of what were once screams had stopped. Loud thud, body hitting the floor. Unnerving squeak of the heavy door, followed by the slam of it being shut and locked. Sam opened his eyes again. The vision all too familiar. His brother, laying lifeless on the floor, his body broken by the abuse of unending pain.

Sam cried. Not because he was scared, not because someone was in front of him, hurting his brother. Not this time. This time it was because there was nothing he could do, he was helpless. His brother was going to die the most painful death imaginable, and there was nothing he could do.


	4. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Dean struggled to open his eyes. They felt so heavy, like he had weights attached to them, forcing them closed. His body felt numb. Too numb, this can't be good.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted louder than he meant to in the silent room.

"shhhhhh." Dean managed to make something audible. He had other words he was trying to say before that, and after, but they didn't seem to want to come out.

He closed his eyes back, against the pain that shot through his head, gently lifting an arm he could barely feel and putting his hand on his forehead, willing the ache in his head to go away.

"Sorry." Sam whispered in a bashful tone.

"Hey there, Ace."

Dean slowly opened his eyes again, allowing his eye sight to adjust. "Dad?"

"Yeah, Buddy, it's me." John said with a smile.

Sam couldn't help but roll his eyes. Dean always had such faith in their dad. He always depended on him, always expected him to be his savior when he needed one. But, Sam didn't have that same kind of faith. He had felt hopeless, he was sure they were going to die in that place.

How Dad managed to find them, Sam would never understand. Hell, he didn't even know how he even knew they were in danger. But, then again, he hasn't exactly asked, his mind was preoccupied with pushing away the waking nightmares and worrying about his brother. Yeah, Dean had faith in a man that Sam would always hold a grudge against, but then, then there were times like this.

 _Sam worried. Oh god, he was worried. He didn't even know if his brother was still breathing. He hadn't moved in so long. He just laid there, in a heap on the floor. Broken. He was so broken, his mind was already shattered, and his body wasn't far behind, unless this, this last violation had completely finished breaking his body too._

 _There was no way he would be able to live without his brother. No way. The man might as well put a bullet in his head when he was finished with Dean._

 _The man. Sam wasn't sure of the time, or the day, or anything, really, but he was sure that he had been gone longer than before. He expected him to come back already. To start his crap with Dean, see how far he could push him this time, but, he never came back._

 _Maybe this was a test? Another form of torture? See how long they could handle the solitude of this place. Hell, it was already driving both of them crazy. Sam was sure, a day of silence, and he would lose it, just like Dean had._

 _At that moment, he almost felt envy. Dean was unconscious, sure it was because of pain, but at least his mind wasn't having to work overtime, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and how to get out of it. But, then again, it wasn't exactly like Dean was in any shape to get out of here on his own, and Sam wasn't sure he'd be able to have the strength to help him out. I mean, he wasn't even sure where 'here' was._

 _That was weird. Something caught Sam's attention. He wanted so badly to wake Dean, but he couldn't, he was gagged. He couldn't yell, or call for his brother. But, something definitely caught his attention. Something that was different. It hadn't been the normal sounds and routines he was used to._

 _There was some rattling at the door, like someone was trying to force it opened, but couldn't figure out how. Maybe it was a locking mechanism that kept it locked up. But, Sam couldn't miss a chance that maybe, somehow, someone was trying to save them. He let out his loudest, best muffled cries that he could manage, pulling against his chains, making them rattle, hoping that someone could hear something._

 _God, please, he begged. His brother needed help. He had seen slight movements out of Dean a couple times. Enough to give Sam relief that his brother was still holding on. Somehow, he was still fighting._

 _Between the sounds at the door and Sam's mumbling it pulled Dean out of his darkness, it took him a moment to focus, and looked up into Sam's eyes, seeing the desperation there. He wasn't sure, exactly, but he was pretty sure he knew what his brother wanted._

 _The understanding, and decoding, of Sam Winchester would always be the last thing to go in Dean's mind. He wasn't able to scream, not like he did before, even in pain, but, damn it, if that's what Sam wanted, then he would try his hardest._

 _He scooted himself across the floor. He didn't get very far, but the closer he could get to the door the better. He started with letting out some muffled groans of pain, that he tried to raise to a higher level, but that only seemed to last for a minute, scooting himself, painfully, closer to the door, he grabbed the metal rod that was in the fireplace._

 _The noises at the door stopped, and Dean took every ounce of energy he could muster up and launched the rod at the door, striking it with a loud thud as it crashed against the metal door and fell to the floor._

 _It was enough to get the attention of the people on the other side and they continued trying to open the thick, heavy door. Dean finished making his way to the door, placing the palm of his hand against it._

" _Dad." He whispered, barely audible._

 _Sam's heart sunk, there was no way it was Dad, the man didn't even know where they were._

" _Dad… Please." Dean said a little louder, his eyes filling with a few tears for the first time since all of this started. It had to be Dad. It had to be._

 _Sam didn't have the heart, even if he was able to talk, he wouldn't have been able to break his brother's hope._

 _Dean's hand slid down the door and his head rested against it. It was almost more than the boy could handle. He had used all his strength to make his way to the door._

 _He closed his eyes, letting the whole thing sink in, realizing, once the man was in the room, there had to be a way he left, even if Dean was unconscious every time, he still had to leave. Right? Right._

 _He forced himself one last task, he reached up, adjusting his body, fighting through the pain, and unlatched a latch above the handle, trying in vein to open the knob. Damn it. He tried. It didn't work._

 _He looked up the door, seeing another slide, just out of reach. He grabbed the door handle, bringing himself to shaky knees. Reaching as far as he could, it was still just out of reach. It seemed, when the doors closed, the latches locked from the inside. Dean figured they needed keys to open them from the outside._

 _He forced himself on shaky legs. He only needed a few more inches, so he didn't dare try to stand up straight, it would only give him further to fall. With shaky hands, he pulled the latch opened, falling backwards against the force of the door opening._

 _Instantly Bobby was at Dean's side. "Ssssammmmyyyyy." Dean mumbled out, Bobby looked up, nodded his head, and made his way to the youngest Winchester. John was at Dean's side._

" _Dad!" Sam was shocked to see his dad._

" _Get an ambulance, now!" John ordered, without even acknowledging Sam's response._

 _Sam was shaky, not at all able to walk on his own. He had been chained to a wall for who knows how long, and he was sure his legs had forgotten how to work._

" _You okay, Sammy?" John said immediately turning his attention to his youngest son, quickly looking over him for injuries, noticing he was still fully dressed._

 _John had removed his jacket, laying it carefully over Dean's body._

 _Sam pushed John's hands away. "I'm fine, just some injuries from those damn chains and gag." He said as he tried to rub the soreness out of his wrists._

 _He looked up at his dad with the most pitiful look John had ever seen. It was mixture between desperation, pleading for help, and fear. "Dean… Dad… He's really bad, Dad, help him, please. Make him better!" Sam was now starting to sound like Dean with his un waiving faith that the man before him could make anything better._

" _The ambulance is going to take at least 30 minutes." Bobby announced with his phone pressed against his ear._

" _We don't have that kind of time. Tell them to send the damn cops, and we'll drive like hell and get the boys to the damn hospital before the ambulance could ever get here."_

 _Bobby told them, and told them the car they would be in, hoping they wouldn't get pulled over. He stressed the importance of the police to arrive as soon as possible before someone messed with the crime scene._

 _Bobby helped Sam out to the car. John picked up Dean in his arms and carried the too weak boy and placed him in the back seat with is brother, resting his head on Sam's lap for comfort. John drove, because he was sure he could drive faster, his driving was filled with anger. Bobby sat in the front seat, reminding John they needed to make it there alive._

 _John squealed tires as he pulled in front of the ER doors, Bobby ran in to get help and John got Dean and Sam out of the car. Before he had finished, there was a wheelchair ready for Sam and bed ready for Dean. Both boys were rushed away, leaving John and Bobby standing alone, in shock._

 _Time seemed to click by slowly, 2 pots of coffee gone and finally a doctor entered the room._

" _Mr. John Wheeler?"_

" _Yes, that's me!"_

" _Hi, I'm Dr. Bowie, I'm your son, Sam's doctor."_

 _John shook his hand, but had no interest in the small talk._

" _I'll get right to it. He seems to be okay. He's dehydrated, and malnourished. He's got some injuries to his wrists and ankles where he says he had chains wrapped around him, they cut into his skin, pretty deep in some places. He needed a few stitches in a couple places. His face is bruised and so is his left side, the only thing we've seen is two broken ribs on that side, causing the bruising."_

 _Seeing the impatience rising in John's eyes the doctor continued. "He's awake, but completely exhausted, as to be expected. He's not really talking about what happened. I'm sure, judging by the injuries of your other son, it wasn't easy on either of them. Honestly, I'm concerned about his mental health more than physical, but he doesn't seem to be the type who would accept that, so I would like to keep him over night, under observation and for pain management. He also needs some fluids and antibiotics, to be on the safe side."_

 _John sighed and nodded his head, knowing they would be staying with Dean anyhow._

" _Look, he's already been asking about his brother, and fighting us to see him. But, he needs sleep. He needs to take care of himself, so, with your permission, I'd like to not only give him some pain meds to help with his aching body and injuries, but I'd also like to give him some medication to help him sleep."_

 _The doctor sighed, knowing the exhaustion would eventually win out. "To keep him asleep, so he can get some actual good, restful sleep. The thing with this medication is, it will completely knock him out, and most of the time, depending on the situation, it keeps nightmares away, but even if it doesn't, when he wakes, he won't remember it. So, it's really going to be our best option for him right now, I think."_

 _John agreed, he knew Sam would fight till the end to be with his brother, but that wasn't even possible right now. His oldest son was in surgery. He wasn't clear on the exact injuries. Hell, the doctors weren't even sure what they would run into, but they knew he had internal injuries. Both, from the beatings and the violent rape._

 _The scans showed some bleeding in the abdominal area, which could be from a number of different things, the problem was, his internal organs were so swollen it made it difficult to see what they were dealing with, until they were able to cut him opened and investigate his injuries._

 _John sat in a chair, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. His mind was a blur. He was in shock. Not the kind of shock his boys were in, but still, his brain wouldn't function properly and it drifted back to the day before._

 _He wasn't sure how or why, but he felt there was something wrong. He just had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He tried to call Dean's cell, both of them, but didn't get an answer, then he attempted Sam's. The same, no answer._

 _Normally he would send them texts of locations he wanted them to investigate. They would never text back, couldn't because he had his cell blocked. But, the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach deepened when he didn't get an answer from either of his boys._

 _He traced their phones. It wasn't difficult because they were trained, unless they need to keep hidden, you always keep your location setting turned on. At the very least, it would give the last known location, before the phone was shattered or thrown out by the bad guy._

 _A quick call to Bobby, and a full tank of gas had John heading in the direction of his boys' last known location. He prayed he was wrong. Prayed they were just busy, unable to answer. He had even unblocked his phone, hoping they would try to call back._

 _John had picked up his phone again, no answer from either of them. Dean's main phone and Sam's phone went straight to voicemail. They didn't show active when he looked them up, but Dean's spare phone was still active._

 _After several rings the only thing John received was voicemail. The last known location of the boys' phones and the one that was still active where in the same general location._

 _John figured, Dean's spare phone was in his car, and they had walked away from the car, probably on some type of hunt, where their phones were destroyed, for some unknown reason. He was grateful the boys' location wasn't far from Bobby's. It would mean the older hunter would already be on the case by the time he got there._

 _It didn't take long for Bobby to find the boys' motel room and pick the lock. Their pattern was predictable. To most, it would seem unorganized and sporadic, but John had taught them that, so it was easy for them to find each other. He sent John a text with the room location and quickly started going through the research papers in the room._

 _By the time John arrived, Bobby had already figured out the hunt and location where the boys had gone. They both, just like Dean, had a bad feeling about this hunt._

 _Carefully, they made their way to the location. John spotted the half dug grave and found a device that would have sprayed a fog of… something… probably something to knock his boys out, a drug of type… when struck. It had obviously been struck._

 _He sighed, his boys didn't even have a chance. Probably, didn't even know what hit them. He was, however, relieved to find there was no blood anywhere. That was a good sign, at least his boys were still alive when they were taken._

" _Hey, John." Bobby whispered, getting the oldest Winchester's attention._

 _John walked over to see what Bobby had spotted and his heart jumped with hope._

" _Breadcrumbs!" John whispered back._

 _What no one, but Sam, knew was when he went looking for his brother, following where the unknown man had taken him, he left a trail. It wasn't an obvious one. But, it was one a hunter would notice. It was one that he would be able to follow back, and god forbid if something happened to him, Dean would notice it and know his way out of where ever the hell it took them._

 _John and Bobby, armed with every weapon they could think of needing, followed the trail his youngest son had made. It brought them to a clearing in the woods. They kept hidden, scoping out the area. This is where the trail stopped. They weren't sure if it stopped because the person who made it was captured, or if this was were his boys were at._

 _After scoping out the area, John found another device that was the same as in the grave, it had been set off by a trip wire. Pointing down at it, Bobby understood. They carefully looked for any signs of wires or traps. The best John could figure, one son was taken at the grave, followed by the other, who was taken after setting off the device with the trip wire._

 _They sat there, hidden, watching, waiting. Suddenly, in the morning light, a man appeared, opening a hidden door in the ground and climbing down the steps beneath it. The men waited, making sure no one else would come. Once they were sure the coast was clear, they made their way down the steps, into an underground, hidden hell._

 _No, no, his boys could not be here, they just couldn't. He could smell the old copper from rotten blood, and the smell of death mixed with urine, sweat, and the smell of sex. His stomach turned as he tried to hold down the vomit that threatened to rise from the sight, and smell._

 _His head swam with the thought of his boys in this place. He was sure, somewhere, there were dead, decaying bodies, probably those of the missing hunters he had read about in the boys' research._

" _Oh, god, Bobby!" John whispered with despair in his voice._

 _Not knowing where the man had gone, the men found a place to hide that gave them a full view of the area, and they waited._


	5. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER 5**

 _John wasn't sure he had ever been so scared in his life. He sought after the comfort of his friend._

 _Screams… oh god… those were screams, cries. But, he couldn't tell where they were coming from. It sounded like… it sounded like Dean? That was both a good thing and a bad. It meant he was hurt, being hurt, enough that it was forcing screams. Weakened screams. Barely audible outside of whatever walls he was held behind. But, it also meant he was alive._

 _If Dean was alive, Sam would be too. There was no way his oldest son would allow someone to kill his little brother without going through him first. God, John hated this. The screams stopped, he wondered if he was too weak to scream anymore, or in too much pain, or possibly unconscious._

 _Of course, there was always death that would stop screaming, but John wouldn't, couldn't, allow his brain to concentrate on that. There was no way they had come this far just to have his son die moments before he was saved._

 _It felt like a lifetime, finally the man came out of one of the doors, and it only took a moment for John to be on top of him, weapons drawn._

" _Where's my boys?" He growled._

 _The man just laughed. "Oh, you must be 'Dad'? OH, he was begging for you, pleading for you to help him." The man just smiled, knowing he was torturing John's mind._

" _You son of a bitch!" John shouted, he raised his fist, to beat the man, then figured he didn't have time to destroy him like he wanted. "I'm going to ask you one more time, where's my boys?"_

 _The man continued to smile. "Dead!" He said, right before John put a clean bullet hole right in the middle of his forehead._

 _They tried to enter the door he came from._

" _No, no, no, Bobby, no… they can't be… please, no…. they can't be dead!" John repeated, over and over and he tried to open the locks with no success._

" _John, there's got to be a key, somewhere." Bobby suggested as he started searching the man's pockets._

 _Finding the key, they unlocked the door, it only led into a large, empty room, with three more doors. This was like a god damn maze! John didn't have time to play these games. He wanted, no he needed, to get to his boys._

 _Checking the doors, there was only one that was locked shut. That has to be where his sons were at. He tried to open it, tried to figure out the locks but he couldn't, there was some type of code that held them closed. Great. Just great! His boys were being held, god knows what happening to them, and he couldn't even figure out how to get the damn locks opened._

 _John beat on the door while he tried to open it, slamming his fists against the door one last time, he slid his body to the ground, falling on his knees._

"Dad?" Dean's weakened voice brought John from his thoughts.

"Hey there, Sport, how you feeling?" John's eyes were filled with tears, streaks running down his cheeks.

"Like death." Dean smirked with exhaustion.

"Yeah, I'd imagine so." Okay, that was a stupid thing to say, but John didn't know how to react to this. He didn't know what to say, or not say.

Dean just grinned at his dad, honestly, he wasn't sure how to react either. His mind was still foggy, he knew why he was in the hospital, but the details were lost in the fog. He was sure he would be thankful for that once the memories came back.

"Dean!" Sam entered the room, coffee cup in hand, happy to see his brother awake.

Dean looked up at this brother. His face was bruised from the gag that was wrapped around his face. His wrists were covered with bandage. He had dark lines under his eyes, he looked worn and tired, like he hadn't slept in years.

"You sleep any?" Dean asked, concern for his brother over riding his own injuries.

"Yeah." He replied as he sat in a chair beside Dean's bed. Dean didn't miss the rolling eyes of his dad. "I didn't have a choice, they gave me some medicine that knocked my ass out."

Dean chuckled at his brother. "And, since then?"

"I mean…" Sam rubbed his hand across his face. "I'm good man."

Dean gave Sam his big brother look. "Sam, seriously, dude, you look like shit."

"Yeah, back at ya." Sam replied, both boys grinned at each other.

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

John sat back, watching his boys interact. Even though they had just been through hell together, they were still able to find comfort, to be the comfort that was needed.

Dean winced at the pain as he scooted himself to the far side of his bed. He was already halfway on his side, a pillow behind him, propping him up, keeping the pressure off his backside. He pulled the edge of the cover back, offering his brother the comfort he was so desperately in need of.

Sam didn't hesitate. Like a child, the same as when they were younger, Sam crawled into his brother's bed. Once again, Dean had sacrificed his comfort for the sake of his brother. Sam's eyes filled with tears. He tried to be gentle, didn't want to cause his brother any more pain, he pressed his face into Dean's chest.

Dean winced at the pain, but didn't stop his brother, or push him away. Sam fisted Dean's hospital gown, holding onto his brother tightly, and he freely let the tears fall. He had been holding them in since their Dad had rescued them. He was too worried about Dean.

The fear and worry had over ridden his need for tears. He held everything inside, building a tightness in his chest that wouldn't go anywhere. Now, he was in the safety of his brother's arms, being comforted by the one person who needed comforting the most.

But, he didn't care, he needed this, and like always, he was being the selfish little brother, allowing his older brother to sacrifice for him. It wasn't until he had settled his crying into whimpers that he realized, Dean needed this as much as he did. Dean's arms were wrapped tightly around Sam, holding him like a life line. His heartrate had slowed, his breathing evened out.

Sam was sure he heard his brother sniffle. He wasn't sure if his big brother had tears falling or not, but he was sure he was crying, internally if nothing else.

It didn't seem to take long before both brothers were fast asleep. John sat back, watching the interaction between the two. They had been through so much together. Not just right now, but their entire life. Dean had always sacrificed for Sam. He would sacrifice his last breath if that's what it took. No matter what the situation was, Sam would always be more important to Dean than Dean himself.

 _Sam couldn't believe the strength his brother had. Not only had he managed to survive the abuse that was given to him, but now, he was struggling to make his way to the door. Somehow, he knew their rescuers were on the other side of the door. Their dad._

 _Dean had said so, even though Sam didn't believe it. The only thing Dean's mind could seem to acknowledge was that he needed to save Sam. That was the thing that kept him going. The thing that gave him the strength he needed._

 _Sam watched as his brother banged on the door with the very object that had caused him so much pain. He brought back the sounds of desperation on the other side of the door. It was just a thick piece of metal keeping them from their salvation._

 _Dean struggled to make it to his knees. He used the door to pull himself up with. He had to unlatch the locks, had to save his Sammy. It didn't matter how much pain it caused or what he had to do to accomplish his mission._

 _It was 'Operation Save Sammy' and nothing else mattered. He grunted under the pain, pulling the very last bit of strength he had left. If this didn't work he wouldn't be able to try again. He had to make this work, for Sammy. It was for Sammy. As he unlatched the last lock, his body gave out._

 _He fell backwards onto the ground. Unable to move, unable to react to the pain. Someone was there. He wasn't sure who, but it was a feeling of comfort. He wanted the comfort to stay, but he needed to save Sammy. That was his mission, his final mission before giving into the darkness._

" _Ssssaaaammmyyy." He managed to force out. He needed this comfort he felt to be given to Sammy, to save Sammy. Sammy needed help. Someone, please, help him. He needed help. Dad. Dad needed to help Sam. That was all Dean could think of._

 _His body collapsed under the new feeling of comfort. This comfort was different. It was… it was like… something he had been waiting for, longing for. But it needed to be given to Sammy, not to him. Sam was safe now. He knew it. The darkness creeped in, filling his head, as his body went limp._

Dean wrapped his arms tighter around Sam. John thought about waking them, they both seemed to be suffering from nightmares.

Sam was breathing hard, his body was trembling at the sight of his brother, broken, dying, in front of him. His sheer will power to survive to protect his brother. Sweat was beading on his forehead and the back of his neck. He pressed his face further into his brother's chest, willing himself to disappear, to become one with Dean.

Dean felt his brother's distress, pulling him from his own memories. The memories that were fogged in his head were barely breaking through. He held Sam tighter as he pushed himself closer to Dean. After a moment, Dean opened his eyes. He stared at his dad who was watching them. No words were spoken, they didn't need to be.

Neither of them knew what to say anyhow. Dean didn't want to talk about anything, not that he remembered much, but he knew it was bad. Finally, after a long moment of silence, once Sam seemed to calm under the comfort and safety of Dean's embrace, Dean broke the silence that had filled the air.

In a whisper, careful not to wake Sam. "Is he okay?" Dean asked his dad.

Is he okay? Is he okay? Dean almost died, he was still in pretty critical condition, even if he wouldn't admit it, he was in some pretty intense pain. Sure, the pain meds were helping, but he would still wince at the pain when Sam would shift, or push into Dean's chest.

John had raised Dean to watch out for his brother, to always make sure he was safe and taken care of. It was a job he took seriously. And… now… he was broken, destroyed… and he was asking if Sam was okay.

John thought about lying to him, telling him that his brother was just fine, but he knew better. He knew Dean would know it was a lie. After all, Sam had cried himself to sleep in Dean's chest, he had just woken him by his nightmares and required a new reassurance from Dean's touch. No, no he wasn't okay. He was broken, maybe not the same way as Dean was, but broken none the less.

"He's having a hard time processing things." John finally said, thinking that was both the truth and didn't have definite details of how hard his son was struggling.

Truth was, he wasn't completely sure how hard he was struggling. The boy barely talked. He stayed in a huddle in the chair beside his brother. His knees pulled to his chest, his feet resting on the seat of the chair. His arms wrapped tightly around himself. There were moments his eyes would cloud with tears, but he never let them fall. He stayed locked up in himself.

Dean just gave a slight nod, digging his face into the top of his brother's head. He waited a moment before lifting his head again, locking eyes with his dad.

"He…" Dean tried to speak, but cut himself off. He wasn't sure what he wanted to say.

John remained still, and quiet, waiting to see if his son would finish what he had started saying. After a moment of silence John spoke up, "It's okay, son."

Son…. Son… it's okay, son… you're not my dad!... The memories flooded into his head. The man… he had called him son, it set Dean off, the man was not his dad, he was not his son. And, no matter how much he was hurting, he was going to make sure the man knew that. 'I'm your daddy now'.

Dean cringed at the remembrance of the words the man had said to him. He only had one Dad and he was going to save him, he just had to. He had begged him to help. His dad had never let him down before, and he wouldn't this time either.

"Dean, you okay?"

Dean looked up, at some point his dad had stood from the chair and was standing beside his bed. Dean's eyes were glossy with tears that threatened to fall.

"I… I don't remember much." He confessed, still trying to stay quiet enough not to wake his brother. "But… Sam… he… I remember hearing his muffled cries, seeing the tears running down his cheeks. The fear in his eyes. It wasn't… easy… he… it wasn't easy… for him…"

Dean started mumbling, not completing his thoughts in full sentences as his mind wandered back into the memories of his brother tied to that wall, pulling against the chains, trying to scream around the gag. Fear had taken over any rational thought he had.

"Dean, come back to me." John whispered as he gently placed his hand on his son's shoulder.

Dean jumped a little, not enough that anyone would see, but enough that John felt it under his touch.

"It's okay, it's just me." John reassured him, without removing his hand. "Look, I know this isn't easy, on either of you. But, I need you to stay here with me, in the present, okay?"

Dean nodded his head. He didn't want to slip back there anymore than his dad wanted him to. They both knew he would have dreams for that, he didn't need to do it while he was awake too.

Another moment of silence filled the room, John removed his hand from Dean's shoulder. He didn't want to break the contact, he wanted to hold both of his sons as tight as he could, but instead, he moved his hand, trying to make his son feel more comfortable.

He wasn't sure how Dean would feel about too much touch. He seemed to be okay with Sam's touch, but that was Sam, he was different, he was always different.

"Dad?" Dean's voice sounded broken and desperate. His forehead had crinkled into a look of devastation. His eyes, glossy with the unshed tears.

"Yeah?"

"It hurts!" Dean practically cried those words out.

For Dean to admit something hurt was never a good sign. He was the toughest person John knew. He had seen that kid go through things that would make an adult man crumble and he always stood strong.

"Okay, I'll go see if they can give you something for pain." John said, receiving a slight nod from Dean as he walked out of the room to find a nurse.

He knew it was important to Dean not to wake Sam. It was the most important thing. If his comfort meant Sam's lack of comfort then Dean would pass on what he needed to keep Sam safe in his arms.

John explained this to the nurse before she entered the room. She wasn't very happy with it. Dean was her number one concern, not Sam. But, if Dean's happiness meant Sam's happiness then she would accept that the best she could. Right now, she was going to make sure she could help stop the pain that they were both sure was worse than anyone could imagine, especially if Dean was admitting to it.

The nurse gave him a smile. "I got something here to help you with that pain, okay, sweetie?"

Dean just gave a half nod, his body no longer wanting to cooperate with him. It was starting to give into the pain.

"You know how this works… scale of 1 to 10… what's your pain?"

"Ten." Again, Dean's voice cracked and sounded like he wanted to sob, to cry the words out, but he didn't, he kept his composure.

The look in his eyes told a different story. They were rebelling against him. The pain that was held so tightly deep in his eyes said his pain was more than even he felt like he could handle right now. He just wanted some relief. He wanted it to go away, even if just for a short moment, he needed a break from it all. He needed that blessed darkness where he couldn't feel anything, and couldn't think, or remember.

The darkness came and took away the pain, sending him into a deep sleep. That was the exact thing the medicine was supposed to do, but it didn't stop his brain from spinning. It didn't take away the thoughts that flooded in, the memories that shuttered in was, in a way, worse than any pain he could ever feel.


	6. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER 6**

His body was shaking. His heartbeat doubled. His breathing was out of control. Sweat had covered his body in a thin layer, soaking the sheets beneath him. The memories, the details of the memories. They had flooded him. Leaving him feeling lost, confused, scared, alone.

He had woken Sam. His little brother cried out when he saw the shape Dean was in. John was instantly by his side. The older man was exhausted. He had been there, with his boys, since he had found them. He had started drifting off, only closing his eyes for a few minutes before Sam started crying out.

They both tried to wake Dean from his nightmare. Sam crawled off the bed, readjusting his position, hoping it would help. It didn't. Dean fought against any touch they attempted. His body was shaking… shaking hard. Sam gasped and pushed himself back, away from Dean and tripped over the chair behind him.

The tripping and stumbling over the chair caused Sam to fall on the floor, but it didn't stop him from trying to get away. He pushed himself across the floor, not stopping until something else had forced his movements to cease.

No, this couldn't be happening again. Memories of his brother's shaking body flooded Sam's eyes. His body shook so hard, Sam was sure he was having a seizure. His body would shudder under the weight of the man pressing himself into him. His body would shake uncontrollably when he was burned on the inside. Sam found himself in a corner, his knees up to his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around them. His own body trembling under the memories.

"Sam!" John shouted out to his youngest son as he watched him lose himself inside his own mind.

"Dean!" John then turned his attention to his oldest son. "Come on, Dean, I need you to wake up."

The commotion had gotten the attention of the nurses who came into the room to help with the boys.

Dean woke, finally, covered in sweat. He woke in a panicked scream. A painful sounding scream.

"Dad, please, Dad, help!"

"I'm here, Dean, I'm right here, it's okay, it's over, you're safe."

John grabbed his oldest son and held him tight. Dean was still shaking, he grabbed fists full of his dad's shirt, holding on as tight as he could. Afraid. Afraid if he let go his dad would be gone, and he'd be back in the hell he was subjected to. He didn't want that. He wasn't sure where he was. He could have still been there, for all he knew, but it didn't matter. Right now, he had the comfort of his dad, real or not, he didn't want to let it go, he couldn't lose this. Not right now.

Dean, for the first time since he was captured, allowed his tears to fall. He sobbed into his dad's chest, holding onto him as tightly as he could. John kept his arms wrapped around Dean's back. He was gentle, not a tight hold, he didn't want to injure him or cause any unnecessary pain, but it was enough to let Dean know he was there.

The nurses left after John assured them they would be okay.

"Sam?"

John tried to get his son's attention, after several tries, Sam looked up at his dad, clearly shaken and feeling lost.

"Sam, come here." John requested, one of his arms stretched out, opened for his youngest son.

Sam didn't hesitate. He crawled on the bed with Dean and his dad and buried himself into his dad's embrace. They were broken. Both of his boys, lost in themselves, lost in the memories they held. Memories of events that John couldn't even imagine.

Yes. He had seen the room they were in. He saw the injuries and condition of his sons. He heard the doctor's reports. It was worse than he could ever imagine. Even the doctors were shocked that Dean was still alive, that he was still fighting to survive. But, they didn't know Dean, they didn't know his dedication to his little brother.

John's heart broke as he held both of his sons, both sobbing into his shirt, both grasping onto him like he was their only hope, their only salvation, the only thing they could hang onto. At this moment, this precious and rare moment, John allowed his tears to fall freely, mixing with his sons' painful sobs. Wishing, he could somehow take it all away, somehow, help his sons forget and feel better.

Sam had pushed away, escaping back into the safety of the corner. Dean's sobs had slowed as he fell back asleep in his father's arms. It had been so long since he had held his sons. It had been so long since they had needed it.

As John held Dean he stared down at him, he looked so small, so young, so broken. John knew this would change their lives forever, he just wasn't sure how much it would change. The boy had been broken before, but not like this. At least, not that John knew of. If it had happened before it wasn't severe enough to warrant John's attention.

John laughed at himself, not severe enough? My god, when did the severity of rape and torture become an actual thought? Sure, his boys haven't had the easiest lives. He had seen them hurt before, especially Dean. He seemed to always draw the short stick. Of course, that was because he was always too busy worrying about everyone else to care about himself.

People can judge John Winchester all they wanted, but he did what he felt was best for his sons, and that seemed to include training them as hunters. It wasn't an easy life, and certainly not the safest life. But, there was one time he tried something different. He thought it was best for his boys. Thought giving them a stable home with stable adults was what they needed. He learned the hard way that he was wrong.

 _Dean called him, panicked. He begged John to come back. Begged him to take them with him. Of course, John was upset, Dean knew better than to interrupt his work, and he also knew he was planning on visiting them next weekend. They had only been there for a few weeks, it was just going to take time for Dean to get used to it. Sam was too young, he didn't understand what was going on, nor did he remember any of it, not that John knew of anyhow._

 _Dean sobbed on the phone. "Please, Daddy I don't like it here, they're mean. Daddy please. I don't know if I can keep Sammy safe like I need to. Daddy. Please."_

 _This was the third time in less than a week, the second day in row, that Dean had called his dad. John, in a fit of anger, not at the people keeping his boys, but at Dean, rushed back to the home. He was convinced his son was over reacting, and he was going to teach him a lesson when he got there. The anger continued to build as he continued to drive. It took him until the next day to arrive. He was coming unannounced. He didn't even think to bother them with his son's whininess._

 _When he got there, and approached the front door, he heard his oldest son crying out loud. "Daddy, Daddy, I want Daddy, please, no, I'll be good, I promise, I want my daddy."_

 _Suddenly, the anger he was feeling toward his oldest son shifted. John didn't even bother knocking before kicking the door in. That was his boy crying for him, begging for him, promising he'll be good._

 _It wasn't like Dean to be anything but good. The kid never did wrong. He was always an overachiever when it came to obedience. He always answered 'yes sir' and 'no sir' he never begged for anything, never, no matter what he was faced with, he never cried for his dad._

" _Please, just let Sammy go to the room, first, please!" Dean begged, just as his dad kicked in the door._

 _There, in front of him, stood his young son. He was shaking in fear, tears running down his cheeks. His little brother, huddled behind him, grabbing tightly to his leg. Dean had his arms out, trying to keep the "father" of the home from getting to him, but mostly to keep him from Sam._

 _The man had a tight grip on one of Dean's arms, twisting it. It was an angry red color. The way it was twisted, John was sure it was broke. Dean had red marks on his face, along with bruises. There were bruises the shape of hands around his neck. He stood without a shirt on, and old, tattered pants that looked too small. He had bruising and what looked like whelps, possibly from a belt, across his body._

" _GET. AWAY. FROM. MY. BOYS. NOW!" John shouted loudly._

 _He grabbed a hold of the man, pulling him away from the boys. Dean yelped at the force he was pulled away, since he still had a hold of his arm._

" _Dean, go pack your stuff and get out to the car, hurry!"_

 _Dean didn't even reply, he just grabbed Sammy and ran to the room that they shared, threw their clothes and little belongings into their bags, stopping at the kitchen to grab as much food for Sammy as he could and quickly carried his brother and the belongings out to the car._

 _Once the boys were outside John beat the man, leaving him for dead._

John never knew exactly what had happened there. Dean never wanted to talk about it. Now, John wondered if Dean had been sexually assaulted, or even raped. It was obvious he had been physically abused. He hadn't over reacted when he called his dad, he was convinced the man would hurt his brother and needed to keep him safe.

The young boy just shut down, he found comfort in himself and his little brother. He shied away from people, and touch. He had gone back into a mute state, like he did the night his mom died. Thankfully, it didn't last as long, but that should have been John's first clue on how much his oldest son was suffering.

He was scared. God, John could see that now. Why the hell couldn't he see it then? Because it wasn't bad enough for him to care? Because Dean was always so strong that he never paid attention to his needs?

Yes. His arm was broken. That should have been bad enough, but John wrapped it in a brace and told him not to use it until it healed. He didn't even take the kid to the doctor. He made him suffer through it. Not that he could actually see his son's suffering, not that he even tried to see it. And, with Dean, you had to actually look to see him. He kept so hidden, so guarded within himself.

Dean never complained about anything, especially pain. He was always the strong one, always the one who held them together, held them up when they got weak. The broken arm didn't stop him from taking care of his brother. He was always protecting everyone else, but, who was protecting him? Who was watching out for Dean? Who was taking care of the small boy who had went through a traumatic experience at such a young age?

John had stayed with his boys in the motel room he rented for the rest of the day, before informing young Dean that he would be gone in the morning. He had a job he needed to finish. He assured him he had driven them far enough away from that home that no one would hurt him, and he would leave them enough food. He would only be an hour away, and it shouldn't take longer than a day, he would be back by the day after tomorrow.

Somehow, he just expected the boy to carry on. He expected life to go back to the way it was before. He expected Dean to not have a broken arm, and who knows what other injuries lurking under the surface. Ignoring it would make it go away. It always did, for John anyhow, and Dean never seemed to bring things back up once John had decided to ignore them.

Dean had gone through several traumatic experiences in his short little life, and they didn't stop there, he had an entire list of traumas by now. He always stood strong, was always the backbone of the family. But now, John saw it, he could really see it, like he had just opened his eyes for the first time, had just now, actually looked at his oldest son, truly looked.

Dean was broken, yes, but more than that, he just needed someone, anyone, to take care of him, to comfort him, to be his savior. And, it took something as terrible as this for his own dad to see that.

He gently laid Dean back on his pillow, now that he seemed to be in a deep sleep. He didn't want to leave him, he didn't want Dean to lose the comfort he had found, the comfort he had longed for all his life, but, John needed to check on Sam.

He wouldn't go anywhere, he wouldn't leave. If Dean had another nightmare, John would be right there to help him through it. Usually, he didn't see things that way. He didn't care. Okay, care was a strong word. He always cared, he just didn't always see that there was something he needed to care about.

He would leave on a hunt, or find something more important than sticking around when the going got tough. But, not this time. This time he was here, here for Sam, here for Dean.

He made his way to his youngest son, kneeling down in front of him.

"Hey there, kiddo." John said with a gentle tone. "You doing okay?"

Sam took a moment to slowly look up at his dad. His eyes wet with tears.

"Hey." John put a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder. "It's going to be okay, you hear me? It's going to be okay. I know, it's hard, right now. And, Dean, well he's got a lot of healing to do, but so do you. And, that's okay. We'll get through this, as a family, you hear me?"

Sam allowed a small grin to enter his face, and a tear to slip down his cheek.

"Is…" Sam's voice cracked as he spoke. "Is Dean going… going to be okay?"

"Yeah, yeah he is." John said with a grin. "He's always okay, and this… this isn't going to be any different."

Sam just nodded.

"Look, the nightmares, those are normal… for both of you, you got it?" John waited until he received a nod from Sam. "I'm not saying they are easy, but I'm saying they are to be expected."

"So, then… what… how…" Sam couldn't figure out the words he was trying to say, but John understood.

"We take it one moment at a time. We become thankful that, for this moment, he's sleeping without a nightmare. The next moment, it may be different, and next time, it might be you instead of him, and each moment, we do what we need to in order to make it through, and slowly, it gets better."

"I… I don't… I shouldn't… dad… I wasn't hurt, not like Dean… I wasn't hurt."

"Maybe not the same as Dean, but, Sam, you went through trauma the same as he did. You may not have the physical injuries, but mentally, you're just as destroyed and have as much healing to do as Dean does."

Sam stared at his dad. He was, honestly, a little shocked that his dad was being so attentive. Usually, by now, he'd find a new hunt or something. Anything to get away, anything to not have to deal with the aftermath of the boys' pain. But, instead, here he was, embracing them, allowing them to openly cry, to openly express themselves. He wasn't judging. Wasn't telling them they were wrong or weak. In fact, he had cried himself, and was pouring his heart out, doing his best to make sure the boys knew he was there for them like never before.

Dean started to moan, and John gave Sam a quick pat on the shoulder and was quickly on his feet, back beside Dean's bed.

"Shhhh, it's okay, Dean. It's dad, I'm right here, it's okay." John soothed him, wiping his sweat covered hair off his face.

He sat beside Dean, lifting his head back into his arms. Causing him to calm again. Dean adjusted himself to a more comfortable position in his dad's arms. He didn't want him to let go. He didn't want to lose this comfort again.

Once he was back into a deep sleep, John laid him back on the bed and returned to comfort Sam. This seemed like it was becoming a normal routine for him, bouncing from one boy to another. When Sam drifted off and started having nightmares, John would leave Dean and sooth Sam, until Dean needed him again.

John wished there were 3 of him. One for Dean, one for Sam, and one to sleep. He thought about calling Bobby, asking if he could help, but the boys needed their dad, not Bobby. And this time, he wouldn't disappoint. No matter how hard it seemed.

He wondered how often Dean felt this way. Bouncing between him and Sam. Not taking the time for himself. The difference is, this was for only one day, Dean had been doing it all his life. He wondered if it got easier over time, honestly, he hoped he'd never have to find out.

"Dad." Dean's broken voice shook him from his thoughts.

"Hey there."

Dean closed his eyes, pushing down the nauseated feeling that was rising in him. He slowly opened them back up, looking at his dad with lost eyes.

"You need something?" John questioned, not sure what was going on in his son's mind.

"Sammy?"

"He's in the corner." John pointed to where his brother was sitting, eyes closed, head against the wall.

Again, Dean slowly closed his eyes, pushing away the wave of nausea and dizziness, and slowly opened them back up.

"You okay?"

Dean's eyes got wide as another wave of nausea hit. "I'm gonna be…" his words stopped as his cheeks puffed out and his face went pale.

John was there, instantly, bucket held in his hand as Dean vomited into it.

The stinging of the sour bile on the back of his throat caused tears to well up in his eyes. His body started trembling as the force of the vomit caused pain to awaken throughout his body.

Once he was done. He grabbed his stomach and rolled back, eyes squeezed shut. "It hurts!" Dean said, breathless. "Dad, it hurts!" His voice was begging his dad to make it stop.

"They just gave you something for pain a little while ago, but I'll go see if they can get you anything else." John pulled his hand away from Dean to go find a nurse.

"NO!"

John stopped immediately and Dean's voice went back to being quiet and broken.

"Please, Dad, stay… don't go… please."

"Okay, I'm right here, okay? I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here." John sat back beside Dean, pushing the nurse button on the bed.

Dean shifted his body so his head was on his dad's lap, his face buried in his stomach and Dean's arms wrapped around his dad's waist.

"May I help you?" The voice spoke over the speaker.

"Yeah, I was wondering if he could get anything else for pain." John spoke to the voice.

"I'll have his nurse check on that."

Then a beep, indicating the voice was gone.

Dean laid, trembling in his dad's lap. His breath uneven. John could tell Dean was holding his breath as waves of pain shot through his body. His muscles would tense and tighten up at the same time as his breathing halted.

The speaking had woken Sam from his rest as the nurse walked in the room.

"Hey there, sweetie." She said to Dean. "You're hurting huh?"

Dean didn't move, he just nodded his head against his dad's body.

"He woke up, and started throwing up, I think that's what caused the pain to pick up."

"Okay, well I can give you something for the sickness, it'll help make you sleepy, so hopefully that'll help some, but, I just gave you some pain meds about 15 minutes ago, so I can't give you anything else just yet. But, with any luck, those meds will kick in nice and strong and help with the pain."

Dean whimpered into his dad, he didn't want to hear that. He just wanted the pain to go away.

The nurse stepped out, telling them she'll be back with medicine to keep him from throwing up again. Sam rose to his feet and made his way to Dean's bed.

"Is he okay?" He asked his dad, trying not to startle Dean.

"Yeah, he'll be fine. He just got sick and it made some pain startup."

Sam nodded his head, sitting on the opposite side of Dean's bed, placing a gentle hand on Dean's back, rubbing small circles to try and calm him.

The nurse returned and put the medicine through his IV line.

"There ya go, hopefully that'll give you some relief, it'll at least keep you from making it worse by throwing up again. Can you tell me where it hurts?"

Dean just groaned and tightened his grip around his dad, releasing a couple sobs from the pain.

"Dean, it's important that we keep track of where the pain is at." The nurse added.

"Every fucking where!" Dean shot out, pissed that she wasn't stopping the pain. What the hell did it matter? If she wasn't going to help it then why the hell did it matter.

"Dean, I know you're hurting, but I need an actual answer, please." The nurse tried one more time.

"My head, my stomach, my fucking leg, my ribs, my…." Dean stopped, he was rambling without thinking, until he was going to say his ass hurt, but he stopped himself before the words came out of his mouth. He seriously meant 'everywhere' when he said it.

He buried his face back into this dad's stomach, tightening his grip around his waist.

"Please." He mumbled into his dad. Begging one last time for someone to help.


	7. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER 7**

"He's hurting, and Dean doesn't usually admit when he's in pain. You gotta understand, for him to be expressing it, that means its unbearable. Isn't there anything you can do?" Sam asked with full blown puppy dog eyes.

"I'll go call his doctor, see what we can do, but I can't guarantee anything." she said with a sigh.

She knew his injuries, knew he wasn't lying about the pain, and honestly, she felt sorry for him. she really did wish there was something else she could do to help him, but her hands were tied, calling the doctor was the only thing she could do. so, with that, she left to attempt the only thing she could.

"Dean, it's going to be okay, you just gotta breathe through it." Sam tried to calm his brother, but he was sure he wasn't of much help, as his brother whimpered in pain.

Dean gritted his teeth and rolled unto his back, away from his dad. He grabbed both arms and wrapped them tightly against his own stomach, pulling his knees as far to his chest as he could while rolling back on his side, toward his dad. He tried to hold back the cries of pain, tried to keep them behind his locked jaw and gritted teeth, but he failed as the groans of pain escaped into the air. Tears slipped down his face, his entire face was screwed tight against the unending pain.

"Why the hell can't they just make it go away?" Dean question through the tears.

"Dean, they're doing all they can." Sam reassured him.

It actually wasn't much of a reassurance. He had seen the damage happen to his brother. He watched the injuries as they were being inflicted. He saw the pain he was in, and he had no doubt that the pain was still worse than anyone could imagine.

Sam looked to their dad for help, the same as Dean had. His eyes pleading for him to do something.

John had never felt so helpless in his life. both of his boys were looking for him to help with something he couldn't do anything about.

"Dad." Sam spoke. "He was in so much pain. There's no way he's not still in pain."

"I know." John said with a defeated tone.

"NO! no you don't!" Sam shouted. Causing both, John and Dean, to pause in shock. "You weren't there! You didn't see what I had to see."

"Sam." Dean tried to get him to stop talking but it didn't work, it was like he didn't even hear his older brother's pleads.

"You didn't see the torture and abuse that happened. You DON'T know!"

"Sam."

"You didn't see him beaten and raped and burned, literally from the inside out. You didn't see the expressions on his face, the pain he was in."

"Sam, please!"

"I'm so sick and tired of you saying you know or that you understand, because you DON'T! Unless you were there, like I was, unless you saw what I did, then you don't have a damn clue!"

"Sam, please, stop!"

"And, I couldn't do a damn thing! I couldn't stop him, I couldn't help him. I tried, but damnit, I couldn't!"

"Sam, please."

"I couldn't even yell, couldn't tell him to stop, couldn't make a damn sound. I wanted to, so badly, I wanted to, but I couldn't"

Sam's anger had turned to tears and sobs. John just sat still, letting Sam vent, Dean on the other hand, he was there, and he didn't want to listen to what Sam was saying. He didn't want to talk about it or listen to or even remember it.

Damn! Why the hell couldn't he just shut up! Go yell and scream and cry about it somewhere else, not here, not in front on him, he didn't want to hear it, he went through it, he knew how bad it hurt, no one needed to explain to him the pain he was in.

"Sam….pll…" Dean couldn't, he just couldn't anymore. Sam had ignored his pleads, and now… shit! Now the nurse, and the doctor were standing in the room, how long had they been there? Sam seemed to be oblivious to the fact. He was oblivious to the world right now.

"The worst thing was that I didn't have a damn choice but to watch, to watch my own brother be tortured and even when I closed my eyes, I couldn't block out the screams of pain and couldn't get rid of the burning flesh smell."

"Sam... stop…"

"The blood that poured into the floor after he was raped was enough to make anyone's stomach turn, but then… then the son of a bitch shoved that fire hot metal inside of him…" Sam started stuttering and fighting through the lump in his throat.

"Sam!" Dean tried one last time as Sam fell to his knees in a puddle of tears.

John made his way to his youngest son, wrapping his arms around him, embracing him in comfort and safety. No words were spoken, they didn't need to be.

The doctor and nurse remained still for a moment. They were slightly shocked, but also understood, given the situation.

Dean laid, alone, on the bed, his arms grasping his stomach, his head pounding as hard as his heart was.

The doctor slowly made his way to Dean's bed, not wanting to interrupt the moment that was going on with his weeping brother.

He cleared his throat before speaking, mostly because he had to push back his own tears that threatened to fall.

"Nurse Amy says you're hurting pretty bad today? And, from what I just witnessed, I'd say there's no wonder why."

Dean's face blushed in embarrassment.

"Where exactly are you hurting?"

"Mostly? My head is pounding like hell and my stomach, I don't know… it hurts."

"Like a regular stomach ache?"

Dean shook his head, no.

"Can you explain it to me?"

"Like… on the inside."

"Okay. You know you had surgery, right?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay, and you know the injuries that were already involved, but do you know why you had surgery?"

"No sir, not exactly."

"Well, you had some internal bleeding, and we couldn't tell where it was coming from because… your insides… well they were basically a big bundle of swollen mess. From the blunt force of… well… fists? Objects?... whatever he was beating you with, caused some significant internal swelling. But, the bleeding was from the rape. You also had a lot of scabbing and burnt skin that needed to be removed and stitched up."

Dean was starting to zone out. He didn't want to hear this, didn't want to deal with it.

"Hey, I need you to stay with me, okay?" The doctor drew his attention back to him.

Dean nodded, looking directly into his face.

"So, it's no surprise your stomach is hurting so badly, especially after vomiting. So, I'm going to give you something for nausea, to keep that from happening again. Pain meds, taken regularly can have that effect on people. It's going to be given every 4-6 hours. I'm also going to increase your pain medicine, and add another one that can be given between doses of the good stuff. Also, I think I need to order another scan, make sure everything is healing up the way it's supposed to."

Dean nodded his head.

"Okay, so we're going to go ahead and give you something to try to ease that pain, if it doesn't work, I need you to let us know, I won't be able to do anything else about it this time, but I can adjust it for next time, okay?"

"Yes sir, thank you." Dean said sheepish.

John had pulled his attention to the doctor, but continued holding onto his youngest son.

"Hey, Doc?" Dean sounded so broken.

The doctor turned back toward Dean. "Yes?"

"I know the medicine is supposed to make you sleepy and all that, but, is there anything you can give to make you not sleep?"

The doctor's heart sunk just a little further. "And why is that?"

"Because… Just because."

"Nightmares?"

Dean nodded. "Yes sir."

"Dean, unfortunately there isn't anything we can do about the nightmares. But, I can prescribe you a sleeping pill, to take at night. I know you're not having any trouble sleeping but it will help keep the pain down, and allow you to get some restful sleep. The thing is, I can't guarantee you won't have nightmares, but 99% of the time people don't remember them when they wake, and the few who do, they say it's not as bad as without the meds."

Dean nodded.

"You want to try that?"

"Yes sir." Again, such a broken, young voice.

"Okay, I'll add that to your new orders, let me know if it works or not, no point in taking it if it doesn't work, and we can always adjust it as needed."

Dean nodded again. "Thanks." He said with a slight grin.

"No problem, that pain medicine helping you right now?"

"Yes sir, it's eased it up, I can handle it now."

The doctor just nodded his head. "Good, next time, I'll make it a little stronger, I have a feeling you can handle a lot more than the average person, so I'm going to guess 'handling it' means it's still pretty strong."

Dean just gave the doctor a small nod with a grin.

The doctor nodded back, making sure there wasn't anything else Dean needed, and left the room.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean called out.

Sam pulled himself from their dad to look at his brother.

Dean moved himself over, pulling back his covers with an inviting grin.

Sam pushed off the floor and made his way to Dean, wiggling his way under the covers and into Dean's comfort.

"You okay, little bro?"

Sam nodded.

"Hey, look at me." Dean said as he reached down and gently lifted Sam's chin so he was looking at him. "Honestly?"

"Dean, I'm sorry." Sam said, ashamed of his outburst earlier.

"Hey, if that's what you feel, if that's what you need, it's fine, don't worry about it, I was there too, remember? It's not like you shocked me with what you said."

Both the brothers had a small chuckle over that.

"I'm good, for now." Sam replied.

"Okay."

Dean didn't really feel like any more caring and sharing, but if that's what Sam needed then he would be more than willing, no matter how much it hurt.

Sam and Dean laid together in the small hospital bed. John had turned on the tv and the three of them distracted themselves with the old black and white sitcoms that were playing.

The nurse came in, and out, giving Dean doses of medication and taking vital signs. It had become such a regular routine they hadn't realized how much time had passed, they watched one show after another, keeping their minds from thinking of anything else.

"Hey, sweetie." The nurse's normal greeting to Dean.

Any other time and he'd be all over it, but not this time. This time was different. However, he did manage to give her a small grin.

"It's time for your bedtime meds and next dose of pain meds."

Dean nodded, realizing as long as he was distracted he wasn't concentrating on the pain that was shooting through his body. He was thankful for that, because now that his mind wasn't occupied he felt every bit of the pain that was there.

Dean had realized, he was pretty sure, this was the first time he had been awake in a hospital and not asked about leaving. Honestly, he had no desire to leave. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he enjoyed hospitals, in fact he hated them. But, for some reason, this time was different.

If anything, Dean figured it would have been worse, it's much more personal. It's not like he got clawed up by a werewolf and needed patched up. This was surgery and torture and…. And oh god, and rape. Worse than that actually. This was right down hell. He had allowed these people, these strangers into his own personal hell. And, he didn't seem to care.

Maybe it was the fact Dad was still there? Maybe that's why he didn't want to leave, because he knew once he did, Dad would go too. He was surprised he hadn't left yet, but figured, no, he knew, that Dad knew how much he was needed right now.

Dean needed him. Dean needed him for himself, but mostly, the only reason he would actually admit to, was that he needed his dad for Sammy. There was no way Dean could take care of his brother right now. Sure, he was lying beside him, sleeping now, and in a way, that was taking care of him, but, he had help, he wasn't doing it alone. There was no way he could do it alone, and he knew that. And, Dad knew that.

He wished the bed was bigger. He didn't want to lose his Sammy, he needed to be there for him, they both needed the comfort from each other, but he also wanted his dad, for the first time since he was 4, he wanted his dad, he longed for his dad, he needed his dad. He needed him as close as possible. He needed to know he was protected, safe. Something only his dad could do.

He opened his sleepy eyes, regret filling him for what he was about to do. Selfishness consuming him as he watched his dad for a moment, watched him doze in the chair. He had been there for the both of them this whole time. Dean knew he had to be exhausted, but he allowed his overwhelming selfishness to override his logic.

"Dad?"

John raised his eyebrows in response. "Yeah?" He mumbled as he struggled to open his eyes and turn to look at Dean.

The look of apology. That was the only thing John could see on his son's face. That, mixed with a little bit of fear, but mostly he was apologizing for something, for waking him? That's what he was there for, no need to apologize.

"Never mind." Dean whispered and he lowered his face into the top of his brother's head.

"Hey, Champ, what is it?"

"I… could…" Dean paused, trying to get his words to come out without stuttering, without sounding childish. But, that's exactly what he felt like right now, he felt like a child, longing for his Daddy. "Can you… sit… sleep… beside me?"

He shot his eyes away from his dad, fear of seeing disappointment in his eyes.

"Hey." John said as he stood, grabbing his chair and moving it beside Dean's bed, between him and the door. "Look, I know… I know you don't ever ask for anything for yourself, but, it's okay. If you need, or want, something, just ask, got it?"

"Yes sir." Dean replied, sounding childish and afraid.

"Hey, Buddy, talk to me, what's going on in that head of yours? You do understand that it's okay to need something for yourself, right?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

He always hated seeming weak in front of his dad. The only thing he ever wanted was for his dad to see how tough he could be. And now, he was just an empty broken shell, but, worse than that, he was letting it show, letting his dad see his weakness.

"Dean, look, I know you don't want to talk about things right now, and that's fine, I'll respect that, but, you went through one hell of an ordeal."

Dean's eyes shot across the room then back at his dad.

"When I found you boys, the smell and sight of that place was almost more than I could even handle, then, when I saw you guys, my heart completely dropped. I carried you out of that place. And rushed you here. We tried to call for an ambulance but they were going to take too long and I knew you didn't have the time to waste."

"We?"

"Yeah, Bobby helped me."

Dean just nodded.

Great, now Bobby knows everything too. Wait, then where was he? Oh, he must be giving them space to do family things. Family things? Where did that come from? Since when have they ever did family things?

"Dean? Earth to Dean!"

Dean snapped out of his thoughts, staring at his dad.

"You okay there?"

"Yes sir."

"Okay, well, like I was saying. I saw the hell you boys went through, especially you. So, I can tell you for sure, it's okay to be feeling whatever you're feeling. And, it's okay to need whatever it is you think you need. You still have a lot of healing to do, and I don't mean just physical."

Dean nodded. Letting his dad's words sink in. His face crinkled with confusion. He had never been told it was okay to feel anything before. He had never heard his dad say it was okay for him to need something for himself.

That was probably the hardest thing John had ever had to say. He had to be completely human, not just that, but he had to be a dad. It's been years, far too many years, since he was an actual dad. He had to tell his hurting, broken son that it was okay. That whatever was going through his head was okay. They would make it through this, together. He hoped he had said the right words, that it made sense. It had been so long since he let his heart show.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"I need you."

A tear dripped down Dean's cheek.

"Hey." John dried the tear from his son's cheek. "I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, you got it? Nothing, and I mean, nothing, is more important than this. Right here."

"You're not going to leave on a job?"

"No, son, I'm not leaving anywhere, not until you're able to leave here, then, we leave together, as a family."

Dean tried to smile a shaky smile, managing to lift the corners of his lips and nothing else. He wasn't sure rather to believe his dad or not. It's not exactly like he has a good track record with keeping his word to his boys, but, for right now, it sounded good, and Dean would take anything that sounded good right now.

He laid there, letting everything soak into his foggy mind.

"Is there something specific you need from me?"

Dean shook his head. "Just be here." He whispered, trying to keep his voice from cracking.

"I'm right here." John said as he placed his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it okay…" Dean paused, hesitating on his words. "Dad… I'm… scared."

He couldn't look at his dad, he couldn't. He had just admitted the weakest thing he could. But, it was true, he was scared. He knew the ordeal was over. He knew his dad had killed the man, but for some reason he was still scared. It wasn't like he expected someone to come in and hurt him or anything like that, but knowing he was safe didn't stop the fear.

"Hey, look at me." John instructed with a gentle tone.

Dean looked up with tears in his eyes, only to meet his dad's tear-filled eyes.

"It's okay, you hear me? I promise you, I'm not going anywhere, you're safe now."

"I… I know I am, but… but I'm still scared." The deep sadness in Dean's eyes glowed with the fear he was speaking of.

John nodded, giving Dean's shoulder a light squeeze. "And, that's okay. It's okay to feel scared. I'm pretty sure if I were you I'd feel scared right now too."

"Really!"

"Yeah, I mean, I can only imagine, I've never been in your shoes, but, I'd say you have an awful lot of emotions running wild inside that head of yours. Some probably don't even make sense. Some, you probably don't even know are there because your mind is such a mess. I'd bet it's pretty hard to think straight, and the details of what happened are all still a bit fuzzy, huh?"

Dean nodded his head.

"You're going to feel all kinds of emotions rage up inside of you before this is over, that I can promise you. Fear is just one of the many. Just know, it's okay. You know that little outburst of your brother's earlier?"

"Yes sir."

"That was just one of his emotions running wild too. But, that's okay, just like, if you find yourself needing to blow off steam, that's okay too."

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine, as long as he's allowed to process things his way. You know, he's always dealt with things differently."

"Yeah." Dean chuckled. "I convinced, that man… whoever he was, that Sam wasn't a hunter because I asked him if he'd ever seen a hunter cry like that. He didn't even hesitate to believe me." Another small chuckle when he finished, mixing with a chuckle from his dad.

"Yeah, he doesn't exactly fit the hunter mold."

Dean shook his head, smiling down at his brother.

"I think," John continued. "right now, what he needs the most is you. He needs to be able to touch you. From what I've been able to figure out, he feels guilty because he wasn't able to help you, wasn't able to comfort you, and in a way, I think he's trying to make up for that. For both, you and him. When he's not near you, not touching you, he locks himself inside of his own mind. He spaces out. But, with you, he's his normal self."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, I understand."

"How so?"

"That's… that's the way… the way I feel… with… you."

John let out a sigh. Dean was practically begging his dad to stay by his side, to be there, not just in the room, but there, with him, touching him, being present with him.

He leaned over the bed, placing his arm over both of his sons. "I'm right here, Dean. Whatever you need, I'm right here."

He laid his head beside Dean's. He may not be able to snuggle to him the way Sam was, but he could still be there, he could still protect his son.

Dean let out a large yawn.

"Looks like all that medicine is ready to kick your butt." John chuckled.

"Yeah." Dean said, sounding overly sleepy. "Hey, Dad."

"Yeah."

"I know he said that I won't remember when I wake up, but if I have a nightmare, like a bad one, will you wake me from it? Please?"

"Yeah, sure thing."

Dean nodded and adjusted himself slightly, allowing the comfort and safety of both, his dad and Sam, to give him exactly what he needed to fall asleep peacefully.

He was glad him and his dad had that talk. He wished they could have more, but there was no way he could talk like that in front of Sam, not with him awake. So, he settled for what he could get and allowed the darkness and effects of the medication to drift him into a deep sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

**CHAPTER 8**

A few days had passed, the same routine hour after hour. Vital signs and medication, followed by some tests and scans, more nurse checks and medication. Dean could feel himself starting to heal. All his scans and tests came back saying he was healing as expected. Sammy and John were both still by his side, only leaving, one at a time, for short coffee and food runs.

A week had passed, even though Dean had been mostly unconscious the first couple days. He was grateful for the fact his comfort, his security, his family, had remained with him, beside him to protect him, he really was. But when Sam went to the bathroom Dean jumped at the chance to ask his dad some questions.

"Where are we?"

"South Dakota, why?"

"Near Bobby's?"

"Yeah, about an hour or so."

Dean just nodded as Sam walked back into the room, sitting on his spot, on Dean's bed.

"You look like shit man!" Dean observed.

"Right back at 'cha!" Sam replied.

"Yeah, well I have an excuse, what's yours?"

Sam shot Dean the evil eye.

"Seriously, man, when's the last time you got some decent sleep?"

"Uh, last night."

"Oh, yeah, that's right, when you were curled up to me, before I woke you with a nightmare. And, how'd you sleep after that?"

"What does that matter?"

"Because you're starting to look like death warmed over, dude, why don't you get the hell out of here? Go to Bobby's get you a good shower, hot meal, and some sleep in an actual bed that you're not having to share with anyone."

Sam didn't like that idea. He crossed his arms across his chest.

"I'm just fine here." He pouted.

"Dean's right." John chimed in, you do look like you need a good rest, and some hot food, and honestly, this is a small room with close quarters so a good shower wouldn't be a bad idea."

Sam rolled his eyes.

John wouldn't have said anything, but Dean seemed to want Sam to leave, maybe he just needed a break from his clinginess? Maybe he wanted some time alone? Maybe he wanted Sam to have some time away. The reason really didn't matter. All that mattered was Dean was obviously trying to get Sam out of the hospital, that was obvious when he seemed excited that they were near Bobby's.

"What do ya say, kid?" John asked. "How about I call Bobby and see if he can come get you, at least long enough for you to shower, eat a decent meal and take a couple hour, restful, nap. It'll do you some good."

Sam hesitated.

"Hey, I'll be right here with your brother, don't you worry about that, and if anything changes, you'll be the first person to know."

"Anything at all?" Sam questioned.

"Yes, anything at all."

Sam nodded his head, looking at Dean for reassurance. Dean nodded back with a comforting smile. "It'll do you some good to get the hell out of this place for a little while."

"Okay, fine." Sam agreed.

John had stepped out in the hall to call Bobby, claiming he was going to take a break from the room while Sammy was still there. Driving his point that Sam needed a break too.

"Bobby's on his way." John announced when he came back in the room with a cup of coffee.

The three of them entertained themselves by watching some sitcoms on tv while they waited for Bobby.

"Hey there, kiddo!" Bobby addressed Dean as he walked into the room.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean greeted him with a smile. He wasn't sure what his dad had told Bobby, but he was thankful that Sam had agreed to go with him, and that Bobby had agreed to come get him.

"How you feeling?"

"Peachy!" Dean said in his normal, sarcastic tone.

Bobby chuckled. "Yeah you look just peachy, like a shriveled up, dead, rotting peach."

Dean smiled at him.

"Glad to see that smile, last time I saw you I was afraid I would never lay eyes on you again." Bobby admitted.

"Yeah, well, you can't get rid of me that easily." Dean joked.

"Damn Winchesters." Bobby said sarcastically, shifting his attention to his brother, who was still perched beside his brother, taking up most of the space on the bed. "You ready to get out of this place, Sammy?"

"Yes sir." Sammy didn't sound too excited, but knew his dad and brother were right.

"Hey." Dean spoke up. "It'll be okay, we'll both be right here, try to take some time to calm your mind and relax, okay? Then when you're ready, we'll be right here, promise."

Dean gave his brother a reassuring grin and Sam grinned back, following Bobby out the door.

Once they were gone long enough Dean and John were sure Sam wasn't going to come running back, John turned to his oldest son.

"Okay, what was that all about?"

"What? I just figured he could use a break from here." Dean replied as he tangled his fingers around his cover in an anxious way.

John just nodded. "Mmhhmm." He didn't believe that for one second, but he wasn't going to push it. The last thing Dean needed right now was to be pushed. He was doing pretty damn good, all things considering.

"How long have I been here?" Dean asked, he was pretty sure he already knew the answer, but needed to start a conversation and wasn't sure how else to do it.

"A week now."

Dean just nodded.

"Do… do you know how long we were… we were… there?"

"Well, when I tracked your cells, the last known location was 2 days prior to when I checked, so I'd assume that's when you got captured and your phones were destroyed. Sam's his was only a day, maybe a day and a half, can't exactly remember."

Dean just nodded, again.

"I was there, in that room, less than 24 hours from the time I felt something was wrong, so I'd say 3 days at most." John clarified.

Again, Dean nodded.

"Sam…" Dean started. "He wasn't there, not at first, his dumb ass came after me. I don't know what happened. I don't know how the hell he got caught, but he did. But, he wasn't there at first."

John nodded. He wasn't sure where this conversation was going, but was going to allow Dean the freedom to say what he needed to. There was a reason he wanted Sam gone, and this must have been it. Maybe his oldest son had a need to talk about what happened, but couldn't, or wouldn't, do it in front of Sam. Maybe he was afraid he would upset him too much.

"So, what happened, before Sam arrived?"

Dean just shrugged. "He wanted to know names and locations of other hunters I knew about."

"Do you think that's why other hunters who tried to hunt his make-believe ghost ended up missing, and I'm sure, dead?"

"Yeah, I do. I think he sets up his trap and waits for some desperate hunter to come along and fall into it."

"Where you boys that desperate?" God, John could have kicked himself for asking that.

"I wasn't, but apparently Sam was. I didn't want to take the case to begin with. I don't know why, even before we found out other hunters had went missing, something didn't feel right to me. I tried to tell Sam, but he wouldn't listen. He just shot off with some smart-ass remark about me being a pansy. He was insistent he was taking the case, so I didn't have much of a choice. I couldn't let him go alone, not with others going missing."

"You did right, son. You don't ever leave anyone hanging, not if you can help it, but especially not your little brother. He doesn't always pick up on the hunter's instincts."

Dean nodded.

"I don't remember what happened, how I got to where ever the hell I was at."

"Well, from what I could tell, correct me if I'm wrong. You were digging a grave, and there was some type of a device I found in it. Something that was set to go off once it was hit. You may have even hit it without knowing, but I'm going to guess it let out some type of chemical that made you drugged in some way."

Dean nodded, somehow that made sense to him.

"Which could also be the reason details are so foggy right now, your brain could still be under the effects, or you may never get your full memories back."

Dean tightened his jaw. "Dad, I don't know if I want all the detailed memories, but I also don't like not knowing what's happened to me."

"Yeah, I get it."

"So, what about Sammy? How the hell did he get there?"

"Well, college boy, left a trail for us to follow. I figure it was a way to find his way back. But, once we got to the end, we found a trip wire that had been activated. It had another device attached to it. One that I'm sure had the same drugged effect on Sam."

Dean nodded again. He was hanging on his dad's words, hoping he was right. It all seemed to make sense.

"Hey, dad."

"yeah?"

"I couldn't tell him. I couldn't give him the information he wanted, that's why he beat the hell out of me, he thought I would break. He told me they always do, and eventually he would get the information he wanted. But, I didn't break. I promise, I didn't. But, I may have said your name. I think I did, but not like, your name, just 'dad'."

John smiled. "It's okay if you did. And, hey, I don't think anyone would blame you if you did break." John's voice got serious. "But, you know, he's dead now, and it's all over. You're healing up as expected, and…" John looked around the room. "It's just you and me right now, tiger. It's okay if you break."

Dean lowered his eyes. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I have to be strong, for you, for Sammy. Like always."

"No, son, no. That's where you're wrong, if you're ever allowed a time to completely break, to completely fall apart, in front of God and everyone, this here. This is it. This is that time. No one would look down on you, no one would judge you or think you're weak. Hell, I'm telling you I don't know how you managed to survive what you did, not only that, but how the hell you continue to be so damn strong."

"I haven't been strong." A tear slipped down Dean's cheek.

"Yes, yes you have!"

"How?" Dean still sounded so innocent, so broken on the inside.

"This, right here, for starters. You talking, trying to understand what happened, not just acting out on your emotions. Do you have any idea how much strength that takes?"

Dean shrugged.

"Plus, the fact that you're keeping your head about you. You're still so concerned about your brother. You even made a plan to get him to leave, I'm guessing because you needed to talk?"

Dean shrugged, again.

"Dean, you're way stronger than I could ever dream of being."

Confusion filled his expression. There was no way he was stronger than his dad, no way he would ever be half the man he was. He was chewing on his bottom lip, wrapping his covers around his fingers, his nerves were sitting on their ends, just waiting for the moment to be released in a fiery rage.

"It's true. You've been through so much in your short life, you've seen more than most grown men. You've stood with your head up against things that would make grown men cry. This. This is one of those things. I don't think… there's no way I could imagine anyone being stronger than you, right now, at this very moment."

Dean shrugged again. "I just do what I have to do."

"You do way more than you've ever had to do!"

Dean twisted his mouth with another shrug of his shoulders. He didn't believe that. But, then again, he never believed he was worth anything to begin with. This didn't change anything. It was just another thing to add to his list of shit that's happened in his life.

"Dad, I'm good, I really am. Yeah, it hurts, sometimes worse than others, but I'm not falling apart, it's just another fucked up day in my life, nothing more, nothing less."

"And that, is exactly what I'm talking about. You do way more than you have to. You don't have to act strong. You don't have to just accept what comes your way. Lord knows, your brother doesn't."

"Yeah, well, he's a girl…so…"

"Hey, be nice." John said with a grin.

The room fell silent, Dean continued to ravel his fingers in his cover, his head hung against his chest, his eyes, and mind, a million miles away.

"I'm sorry." Dean broke the silence with a tone that sounded like nothing but pure sadness. His hands stilled for the first time since they had started talking.

"For what?"

"Not protecting Sammy."

"But, you did."

"I just allowed him to lead us into danger, I should have stopped him. Plus, the only reason he was captured was because he was trying to save me. We had a plan, he didn't follow it. I should have known he wouldn't. I should have protected him more, and I didn't. I'm sorry."

"Dean." John cleared his throat, pushing down the lump that had started forming. "First, we've discussed how you did the right thing, you stuck with him, despite your gut feeling, because you needed to protect him. But, let me ask you something, you don't have to answer if you don't want, okay?"

Dean looked up at his dad and nodded.

"While you were there, did he ever threaten Sam?"

"Yes sir."

"Did he ever offer for him to take your place, to be hurt instead of you?"

"Yes sir."

"And, what did you do?"

"I told him no. I made up a story about how he wasn't a hunter, he was just someone who was tagging along with me, and when I didn't come back, he must have come looking for me. Then I used the fact he was crying to convince him that hunters didn't act that way."

"And it worked? It got his attention off your brother?"

"Yes sir. He didn't have any interest in him, except to use him as a threat every now and then, so I'd stop… fighting… or whatever."

"And, you don't think that was protecting your brother?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know."

"Well, I see it as you protecting your brother. You even managed to come up with a story to keep his attention away from Sam, and in return you got injured more, am I right?"

"Yes sir."

John nodded. "I wouldn't be so hard on myself, if I were you. At least, not until your head is clear and your thoughts are working properly."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear the fogginess that was creeping in.

"Dad, does… does Sam need to talk about what happened?"

"Honestly? I don't know. But, I asked Bobby to try and talk to him, see if he'll open up to him, or if at least he can get an idea of what the kid needs."

Dean nodded again. "I… I don't want to talk to him about it… not right now… but… if that's what he needs… if he needs to talk to me to feel better… than I will."

"I know you will, and I'm sure he knows it too."

"Yeah, probably."

Dean's words were starting to slur, almost like someone who was suffering from a good buzz.

"You okay, there?"

"Yes sir."

Dean closed his eyes again, trying to push away what he was feeling on the inside. He clenched his jaw tight, grabbing fists full of covers. John watched as his son's heartrate quickened.

Just in time, the nurse entered the room. "Got you some of the good stuff, if you want it."

Dean opened his eyes half way. "Yes, please." He said through a clenched jaw.

"Looks like I'm right on time. Pain level?"

"Hurts like a bitch."

"Where?"

"Mostly… you know… the same... stomach area, broken ankle, head, ribs… actually my ribs are feeling a little better, and my head isn't pounding as much as usual, but… you know..."

"Yeah, okay." She replied, understanding what he was getting at. She gave him the much-needed medication, checked his vital signs and left the room.

"Please, tell me this will stop hurting eventually!"

"It'll stop hurting eventually." John replied.

"Are you lying?"

"Nope. No pain lasts forever. You just had some pretty severe injuries that are going to take some time to heal."

"This sucks!"

"I bet it does."

"Dad, I can't… I can't tell her…"

"Tell her what?"

"It burns, like a son of a bitch!"

"What does?"

"You know… from… yeah…"

John twisted his mouth, he was pretty sure he understood, but he needed to make sure. "From the rape?"

"Yeah… that."

Obviously, Dean wasn't coming to terms with everything that had happened very easily.

"Your stomach?"

Dean shook his head no.

"Okay, I'll make sure the doctor knows when he comes in. I'm sure it's just got to do with all the healing mumbo jumbo, but just in case, I'll tell him if you want me to."

Dean nodded his head, his eyes closed, trying to fend off the on coming pain, waiting for the meds to kick in.

"Why don't you rest?" John suggested.

Dean's eyes flew opened. "NO!"

"Okay, calm down, it was just a suggestion, you look beat."

"I feel it, but…" Dean stopped, he didn't want to explain everything to his dad.

"Nightmares?" John questioned.

"Yeah." Dean sighed.

"What about?"

"Stuff."

"Well I kind of figure that, and I also figure it's about what happened while you were captive, but anything specific?"

"Sometimes, yeah. Sometimes, it's like a jumbled-up mess that's trying to untangle and doesn't make any sense."

John nodded, understanding. "Well, as much as it sucks, and as much as talking can help, those dreams, the ones that are jumbled, they are going to help you sort things out, they are going to help you get your memories straight, and your brain working properly again."

"What's wrong with my brain?" Dean questioned, sounding offended that his dad would suggest his brain wasn't working properly.

"Nothing, son." John laughed.

Dean tried to fight off the sleep. He tried to fight the effects of the medicine, but it was a loosing battle. John sat on the bed beside his son, rolling him on his side for comfort, he wrapped his arms around him, allowing Dean to rest his head on John's chest.

His body calmed under the sound of his dad's heartbeat and the comfort of the safety of his arms. It didn't take long for Dean's fight to be lost as he slipped into sleep. John was quick to follow. He had learned, with both boys on the edge, the same rules applied as when you have a newborn baby. You sleep when they do, or you'll never get any sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**CHAPTER 9**

Sam sat quietly during the ride back to Bobby's. He didn't feel safe leaving his brother. All he wanted to do was run back to him and hold on tightly, but he knew it had been an entire week and he hadn't left his side. He needed the break as much as Dean did. Besides, it would only be for a few hours.

"You doing okay?" Bobby broke the silence.

Sam just shrugged his shoulders.

"Okay, well, when we get home you can take you a shower, if you want, and I'll fix you up some warm, homemade food."

Again, just a shoulder shrug from Sam.

Bobby sat quietly during the rest of the drive, trying to size up the man beside him. Trying to figure out what was going on inside his head.

Once they arrived. Sam went, immediately, upstairs to the room him and Dean always shared. He dug through his bag, finding some clean clothes, and headed for the shower.

Bobby watched as Sam made his way upstairs and heard the water turn on. He sighed. At least he was taking care of his physical needs, right now, that was probably the best he could ask for.

Bobby was just finishing up cooking when Sam walked into the room. He had taken a long shower, so long, in fact, the water had turned cold, forcing him to get out and face life again. Bobby hadn't said anything. He figured Sam needed his space to deal with whatever it was he needed to deal with.

Dealing is what he did, if crying was dealing. Sam stood in the shower, letting the hot water wash over him, and he sobbed. He sobbed until he could no longer stand, falling to his knees, covering his face with his hands, the hot water pouring over his body, he cried.

He cried for himself and for his brother. He released every tear he could possibly have inside of him, he released the sadness and brokenness as they washed down the drain with the water.

"Food's done." Bobby announced as he sat two plates across from each other on the table.

"Thanks, Bobby." Sam said as he sat across from the older man.

He took a bite and closed his eyes. He didn't want to function right now, he didn't want to be anywhere but curled up beside Dean, but that wasn't an option.

"How you doing, kiddo?"

Sam shrugged, waiting a moment before speaking. "I don't know."

"You know, it's okay not to know, right?"

Sam gave Bobby a confused look.

"Look, all I'm saying is if you're aware you don't know how you're doing, then at least you're aware of how you're feeling."

"Yeah, didn't help much there, Bobby."

He just chuckled at Sam's confusion. "And, here I was, thinking you were all smart and stuff, being a college boy and all."

Sam huffed. "Yeah, well, I wasn't too damn smart this time, was I?"

"What's that mean?"

"I should have listened to Dean. He told me something was wrong with that hunt, but I was so trigger happy. I was so sick and tired of always listening to him, and the fact Dad is the only person he'll listen to. I was determined I was going to do what the hell I wanted to do, no matter what Dean, or anyone else said."

Sam sounded angrier than he meant to.

"Sounds like to me you were just being your typical self, why the anger?"

"My typical self? Yeah, well, look where the hell my typical self got us!"

"Don't be so hard on yourself, boy."

"How am I not supposed to be hard on myself? Have you seen my brother? I mean, he went through hell. There's no other way to describe it. And it's my fault. MINE, no one else's."

"I wouldn't go that far, I mean, sure you were trying to be your normal rebellious self, but Dean's the one who agreed to stick with you."

"Rebellious? Gee thanks! And yes, he did, but only to protect me, not because he wanted to."

"Okay, so let's just say you're right, let's say this whole damn mess is your fault, no one else's, just you and you alone. Tell me, how exactly did you pull everything off, ALONE?"

"I was the one who insisted on the hunt. I was the one who didn't follow the plan if he got taken, or disappeared, or whatever. I was the one who wasn't paying attention and got myself caught."

"Okay, go on."

"Go on with what? Isn't that enough?"

"I mean, if it was completely, and only, your fault, how did you manage to set everything up? How did you talk that man into hurting your brother?"

"I don't even know who the hell he was!"

"Oh, so you mean, the only thing, according to you, that you're responsible for is taking on a hunt and getting you and your brother caught in a trap?"

"Yeah… I guess…"

"So, you mean, what happened there, in that room, the beating and the sexual assault, you didn't set that up? You didn't have anything to do with that?"

"No! Of course not!"

"Oh, so that was NOT your fault?"

"I mean… I'm the one who got us in the situation."

"But, what happened after you were caught was someone else's fault? It was someone else who is guilty for making the decision to torture your brother?"

"Yeah."

"And, how exactly did you two get caught?"

"I'm not exactly sure."

Bobby nodded, looking like he was thinking hard. "How do you not know? Weren't you the one who set it all up?"

"No!"

"Oh, so… that was someone else too? Someone else was guilty of planning and setting up the traps that took you boys down?"

"Yeah." Sam rolled his eyes.

"So, you're guilty of… trying to be your own individual person and do your job? Even though your big brother didn't agree with you? Does he always agree with you?"

"He's Dean, he doesn't agree with anything."

Bobby nodded in deep thought again. "And, you're always able to force him into doing what you want even if he's against it?"

"This is stupid! You know better than that! Dean can't be forced into anything he doesn't want to be forced into."

Again, Bobby nodded. "So, that's not your fault either then? The fact HE made the decision to stay with you, to do the job with you. If you can't force him to do what you want, then that means that decision was completely his, right?"

"Yeah, I guess, I don't know."

"So… let's see where we are with this… you're guilty of trying to be your own person and take on a job that you wanted to do…. I don't see anything else that you're guilty of. Seems like to me everything else was the actions and decisions of other people."

Sam sat at the table, dumbfounded. He could understand. Bobby had broken it down and involved him in the process. He understood, he really wasn't to blame. Not for everything. But, could he accept that? He had held onto the fact that this whole thing was his fault. He didn't know how to let it go.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"So, let's just say that you're right… How… how do I not blame myself?"

"Well, the way life has been for me, sometimes it takes time… time and a lot of reminding yourself that you're not to blame. That it's not your fault. And you can even direct your anger at the proper person, right now that would be that sorry son of a bitch who's rotting away in the hell he created."

Sam nodded. "Yeah. It was hell."

"I know you probably don't want to ever think about that place again, or what happened there, but you know, you're going to have to, right?"

"I do, in my dreams."

"Nightmares? Yeah that's typical."

"That's what Dad said too."

Bobby nodded. "But you're going to need to face it while you're awake too, not necessarily right now, but eventually."

Sam scrunched up his face. "I don't want to!"

"I know, I didn't say you would want to, I said you would need to."

"How?"

"Well, like this for starters."

Sam nodded. "Dean too?"

"Yeah, Dean too."

"He's going to have it rough, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he is. But, he's strong, he'll make it through this as long as everyone keeps supporting him."

"Dad's been supporting both of us."

"Yeah, I know. Him and I, we had a long talk about what we needed to do, and how to do it. Neither of us have been in this kind of situation before, you know, not really sure how to handle things, other than moment by moment and keep and open mind and opened heart."

"Thanks."

"No problem, kiddo, and, hey, you know I'll be here for you, right?"

Sam smiled and nodded. "Dean needs Dad right now."

"Yeah, he does."

"I don't want to sound selfish, but so do I."

"I know, kid, it's been too long since your pops was an actual dad to you boys. But, you gotta remember he's only one person."

"Yeah, I know. That's why I decided to leave with you. Dean needs Dad more than I do right now."

"Once Dean's healed enough, you guys are gonna come stay here for a while. We figure you'll both need a stable place to stay, a place where you can feel safe and finish healing."

Sam nodded, taking a moment to think. "I… I'm not sure if I'll ever feel safe again."

"It'll come with time."

"I feel selfish, like, I know Dean has to be going through hell right now, he was the one who actually suffered from the attacks, I… I just had to watch. I… I feel like I don't have a right to feel the way I do."

"Sometimes, being forced to watch is worse than it being done to you. When you're helpless, and scared. When all you want to do is protect the person being hurt, all you want to do is speak calming words or give a touch, letting them know you are there and everything will be okay, but you can't. Sometimes, that's worse. It's worse on the mind, it'll break you faster than any fist or beating can."

Sam's tears dripped onto the table below him. His head hung down. Bobby moved so he was sitting next to Sam, and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. Sam started sobbing. That was it, exactly. That was exactly how he felt.

"Hey, look at me, boy."

Sam looked up at him, tears streaming down his face.

"I get it, okay? I understand, and I'm here."

Sam grabbed Bobby's neck, burying himself into his shoulder, allowing the sobs to come with hickuped breaths. Once he had calmed down, and was ready to move, Bobby walked with him to his room. Helping him keep his head on straight in the process. And, that's exactly what this was, a process. Nothing was going to change in one day. Healing was going to take a lot longer than that. First, there would need to be understanding.

Understanding from both the brothers. It has always been them against the world. Dean and Sam, the duo that could make it through anything. They didn't have a parent, or even an adult, to show them the way through life. It was always something they had to figure out on their own. And, in the process, they never had the chance to grow up normal.

They never went through the normal childish phases and emotions. When facing a tough situation, such as this one, they would always seem to resort back to the behaviors they had learned as children. To others, they may seem childish, but to the Winchester brothers, it was comfort and safety.

"I think a good sleep will help you better than anything right now."

Sam was hesitant as he sat on the bed. "I don't want to sleep."

"What if I told you I'll be sitting right here, right beside you?"

Sam shrugged, he could handle that, maybe.

"And, you'll be completely safe. Not only that, but, if a nightmare starts, I'll be here to stop it, and if, when you wake, you're still scared, I'll be right here, to protect you, to be your shoulder to cry on."

Sam smiled, followed by a yawn. He was exhausted. Sure, he had slept curled up to Dean, but it wasn't a peaceful sleep, and it was only for a couple hours at a time.

"Your brother and dad are going to be just fine. You lay back and relax, take care of yourself right now. When Dean comes home, he's going to need you and you won't be able to help him if you're too exhausted."

Sam smiled again, Bobby adjusted himself against the headboard, next to Sam, with a book in hand and a cup of coffee beside him. Sam rested his hand on Bobby's leg for reassurance and closed his eyes, allowing the darkness to take over the fear he was holding onto.

He was safe. He was safe. Bobby was here. He was safe.

Sam couldn't believe it was already dark outside before he had woken. Bobby had managed to doze off beside him, but Sam woke feeling refreshed. He hadn't been woken by a nightmare and… was that the feeling of safety? He felt safe. Safe and refreshed. For a moment he didn't want to move, didn't want to leave this feeling.

His stirring woke Bobby. Who was pleased to see the bright-eyed man looking more like himself, more relaxed.

"How about we get some grub?" Bobby suggested.

"Yeah, then, can we go back to the hospital, to see Dean?"

"Of course."

They sat across from each other at the table.

"How you feeling?" Bobby asked.

"Better, thanks."

Bobby just grinned and nodded.

Sam wasn't as quiet on the ride back, he almost seemed nervous.

"Do you think Dean is doing okay?"

"I'm sure of it, if not, your daddy would have called."

A moment went by filled with silence and a lot of thoughts running through Sam's mind.

"Does he want me there?"

"Of course, why in the world would you even think a thing like that?"

Another silent moment passed, more thoughts, and more worry.

"I don't know, he was pretty anxious to get rid of me earlier."

"Because he knew you needed the break from there, and he was right, look how much better you feel, and how much more talkative you are." Bobby finished his statement with a chuckle.

Again, another silent moment before Sam spoke again.

"Yeah, hey, Bobby, will you stick around the hospital? For just a little while, just to… you know… make sure Dean wants me there?"

"Sure thing, but I'm telling you, he wants you there."

Sam nodded, his anxiety seemed to pick up as they parked at the hospital.

"Hey." Bobby stopped Sam before he opened his door. "You alright?"

"Yeah, I just… I don't know… I feel nervous for some reason."

"Well, don't. Ain't nothing changed since when you left this morning."

Sam smiled and opened his door. By the time they made it to Dean's door his hands were visibly shaking. Bobby stopped him before entering, and placed his hands over Sam's, gripping them with the most concern he could manage.

"It's going to be alright, nothing's changed."

"I know."

Bobby nodded and Sam opened the door.


	10. Chapter 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Sam was hesitant when he walked through the door, this time, he wanted to turn and run. He wasn't sure why. Dad was kicked back in the chair and Dean was relaxed on the bed. They were watching something on tv and half dozing off.

"Hey." Sam said shyly.

Both men opened their eyes and turned to him.

"Hey!" Dean said as cheerfully as he could under the effects of the medication. "Feeling better?"

"Uh, yeah." Sam shifted his weight back and forth from right to left as he stood in Dean's room.

"You look a hell of a lot better."

"You don't."

Dean laughed. "Like I said, I have an excuse."

Sam sat in the empty chair beside Dean.

"What's wrong?" Dean's forehead crinkled with concern as he adjusted himself to sit up straighter.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you trembling?"

"I… I don't know."

"Come here." Dean said as he moved to the side of his bed.

Sam sat beside him, hesitant to lay down.

"Okay, now I know something's wrong. What is it?"

"I… do you want me here?"

"What! Of course, I do, even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes, I wouldn't want you anywhere else but here."

"Then, why did you send me to Bobby's?"

"Because, dude, you looked like shit. You needed to get out of here for a while. Trust me, I would have been right there with you if I knew I could have gotten away with it. But you look better. Do you feel better?"

"Yeah, I do, thanks." Sam laid back against Dean's bed, not curling up to him like before, but resting beside him.

"Hey, little bro. You don't have to stay here if you don't want to, you know that, right?"

Sam gave Dean a confused look.

"I mean, if it's causing you anxiety or whatever, it's okay, I'll understand if you want to go back to Bobby's."

"I want… I want to know you're okay."

"Hey, I'm fine, I promise."

"No, you're not!"

"Right now, I am."

"Yeah, what about in another five minutes? Or ten?"

"Then we'll deal with that when it comes. But, it's not your concern, honest. I just want you to take care of yourself right now, you hear me? I've got enough people fussing over me right now. But, they aren't always going to be around. I need my little, pain in the ass brother. I need you to do what only you can do, and keep me going when things get rough."

Sam laid his head against Dean. "Are you healing okay?"

"Yeah, actually they say I'm doing better than they expected."

"Of course, you are, you're Dean Winchester after all, they don't know how stubborn you are."

Dean laughed. "And they don't know what a pain in the ass you are."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

John and Bobby just smiled at each other. The boys would be okay, they knew that, as long as they had each other they would be okay. Even when things got rough, and it had, they were the light at the end of each other's tunnels.

The two men had walked out of the room, giving the brothers some alone time.

"How's he doing?" John asked.

"As expected. He's having a hard time processing the fact that it's okay for him to feel what he's feeling since he's not the one who was hurt. He said he felt like he didn't have a right to feel anything."

John nodded. "Where you able to talk to him about it?"

"Yeah, and I think we had a breakthrough. He blames himself for everything that happened, and I helped him see it wasn't his fault, he's just going to need reminders."

"What's up with the nervousness?"

"Not sure, it started on our way back here. He asked me if Dean wanted him here. I think he's afraid Dean tried to push him away earlier and doesn't want him around."

"He needed to talk, without Sam around."

Bobby nodded. "Good, he needs to talk."

"Yeah, so does Sam."

"Yeah, it's going to be a long process, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"It's not going to be easy on any of us, and we're going to have to listen to things we really don't want to hear. And, the boys are going to need to say things they don't want to say."

"Trust me, I've already figured that out."

Bobby just nodded.

"Hey, Bobby, thanks. I couldn't do this without you."

"You know, those boys have always been like my own kids, I wouldn't want it any other way."

The men came back into the room, finding the boys hadn't moved from their positions, still talking and picking on each other.

Dean was visibly fighting to keep his eyes opened. He looked exhausted. Sam had calmed, the trembling had stopped. He was comfortable next to his brother again.

They remained silent for a moment and Dean's eyes drifted closed in the silence.

"Do you feel safe?" Sam asked, just like that, out of the blue.

Dean cracked opened one eye, followed by the other. "What?"

"Do you feel safe?"

"Like, right now? Or, in general?"

"Either. Both."

Dean drew in a deep breath. He didn't take his eyes off his brother, honestly, he didn't want to see the reaction of the other two in the room. There was no way he could lie to his brother, especially right now. If he was asking him this, then there was a reason, and he needed the truth.

"I don't know… not really… I mean, right now, at this moment, I guess I'm okay. But, there's still this fear that's like… in the back of my head, just out of sight."

Dean drew in another deep breath and rubbed his hand over his face before continuing. "I mean, it's not like I'm expecting anyone to barge through the door and attack me, nothing like that. It's just… I don't know how to explain it… like… my sense of security is gone, you know, not really safety, more of security… I guess."

"Like, even though we've lived the life we have, the fact that there's so much danger lurking at every corner has come alive inside of you? And you have the realization that there may not be anything you can do to stop it?"

"Exactly like that."

"Yeah, I feel the same way."

"I'm sorry."

"For what?" Sam looked at Dean confused.

"For not protecting you better."

"Dean, I'm the one who should be apologizing. I'm the one who drug you into that stupid hunt."

"I'm the one who agreed to go."

"I'm the one who didn't follow the plan and got myself caught."

The brothers looked at each other and broke out into laughter.

"Guess we're both to blame, huh?" Dean laughed.

"Yeah, guess so."

"Because, you know, we are Winchesters after all, it's not like we should expect anything different."

With Dean's statement all four of the men chuckled. It was true. Winchesters seemed to have the worst of luck. But, they always seemed to stand strong and make it through, no matter what.

"So, when you getting out of here?" Sam asked.

"I don't know, I guess whenever the doctor says I can."

"What? You're not going to try to break out early?" Sam sounded shocked.

"Not this time, little brother."

Sam nodded, understanding, Dean needed to heal, and he needed the medication for the pain.

"Is… would it… be okay… if…" Sam paused, he was actually scared to ask what he was trying to ask. Dean waited patiently for his brother to finish. "You won't be mad if… if I… went back to Bobby's tonight, would you?"

"Of course not!" Dean replied with a smile. "In fact, if that's what you want, I think it's a great idea. You need to take care of yourself right now too."

Sam smiled, giving Dean a tight hug. "Thanks!"

"Hey, you just take care of yourself, you hear me? Don't worry about me right now. You'll have plenty of time for that later."

"Okay." Sam smiled. "I'll be back in the morning."

"Sounds good!" Dean smiled back and watched his brother walk away with Bobby.

This time he was more than willing to go, in fact, it was his decision. Which, made Dean thankful. He knew his brother would be climbing the walls if he was still here, and he wasn't getting the attention and help he needed. He had no doubt that Bobby was helping with that. Even though Sam seemed nervous at first, he looked rested and happier. Dean figured the nervousness was one of those wild emotions his dad had talked about.

"You alright there?"

Dean hadn't realized he allowed his thoughts to wander. He closed his eyes, letting the emotions wash over him. "You know, there were times, when we were… there… I would look up at Sammy."

Dean opened his eyes, still staring at the door. "He was so scared, tears, the big crocodile type, running down his face. The fear in his eyes, the sadness, it was almost radiating off him. It didn't matter what that bastard was doing to me, it didn't matter what I was feeling."

He shifted his eyes to look into his dad's. "All I wanted was to be given, just a moment, to wrap my arms around him, to tell him it would be okay, that somehow, we would be okay."

Dean took a deep breath, holding it before exhaling and continuing.

"I'm not sure if I would have believed it, that we were going to be okay, but I wanted to tell Sam we would. The thing is, if I could have told him, then I would have believed it too because I would have done anything I could to keep my word to him. But, mostly, I just wanted to touch him, to hug him, to wrap my arms around him and comfort his fears, dry the tears that were dripping to the floor. But, I couldn't."

Dean had let his own tears slip from his eyes as he remembered the mental anguish those thoughts had put him through. It was worse than anything physical the man could have done to him.

Still in a slight daze, Dean continued to talk, John sat silently allowing his son to say what he needed.

"I wanted to tell him to close his eyes, not to watch when… when he… tied me to the table, when he removed the last of my clothing. I wanted to tell Sammy to close his eyes, not to watch, but, I couldn't. I couldn't speak, I couldn't get my mind to form the words that I wanted to say."

Dean looked away from his dad, moving his eyes to look at his own hands. He had taken his fingers and rubbed them against the healing scabs on his wrists. The bandages were removed and the stitches that were needed had been taken out. But, the marks were still there. The bruising had changed to a yellow tone, leaving half healed scabs and scaring as a reminder.

"I remember calling for you. I remember asking you to help. I don't know why, but I did. I needed you, wanted you, so bad at that moment."

Dean's hands were shaking now.

"It hurt like hell. I… I couldn't get the words to form, but I couldn't stop the screams."

Dean closed his eyes tightly, letting the memories flush through his mind like a whirlwind. As he opened them, he started speaking again.

"I'm pretty sure he saved my life, you know. No matter how much it hurt, I'm sure it saved me. He said I couldn't bleed to death, something about… being too much fun and breaking me… I don't really remember his exact words. But, when he had me hanging from my arms. He would use the metal rod that he kept in the fire to cauterize the wounds. And, that's the same thing he did after he…"

Dean paused. Why couldn't he say it? It was just a word, just a simple, four letter word. Why was it so hard to say?

"It burned like a son of a bitch, and I know his real purpose was for pain, but I think it saved my life, kept me from bleeding out. I'm pretty sure I was bleeding out."

Dean looked back at his dad. His whole body was trembling, the tears were stuck in his eyes, pooling at the edge. His voice had become broken. He needed something. He didn't know what. His dad didn't know what. But, at that moment, Dean felt empty, he felt scared and alone. Even with his dad sitting beside him.

"You were." John affirmed.

Dean nodded slightly, closing his eyes lightly, holding them closed for a moment, swallowing hard, before opening them.

"I don't understand." Dean's voice, barely above a whisper.

He looked back at his hands.

"Understand what?" John questioned. There was so much for him not to understand, he wasn't sure what he was referring to.

"Why. Why any of this had to happen." Dean closed his eyes tightly.

He was struggling, struggling to keep a hold of himself, struggling to understand. His breathing had increased, his trembles where whole body shakes.

John laid a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder, moving so he was sitting on the edge of Dean's bed.

"Sometimes, things just don't make sense. This is one of those times. People can be evil, even without possession. And, the things they do, it doesn't make any sense. They are just sadistic bastards who enjoy seeing other people hurt. Some, more extreme than others. But, I'm going to say, the whole reason why, is because for some reason he wanted to rid the world of hunters, and he was going to do it on his terms, the way he wanted, which, unfortunately meant pain. And lots of it."

Dean laid his head against his dad. His eyes still closed as the tears slipped between his eyelids. John wrapped his arms around his son, giving him comfort he longed for. No other words were spoken. They didn't need to be. Dean needed silence, silence to allow his emotions to calm and to allow him to recompose himself.

He stayed in a fog the rest of the night. His mind not wanting to cooperate with him. He didn't even respond when the nurse came in with his medication. He didn't fight the sleep it brought on either. He was already living in a woken nightmare, so there was no difference between that and having one while he was asleep. Not tonight. Tomorrow may be better. But tonight, was tough. The worst he's had since he woke from surgery.


	11. Chapter 11

**CHAPTER 11**

The days went by and everything seemed to be falling into place exactly the way they were supposed to. Sam stayed the days with Dean and the nights at Bobby's. John, of course, didn't leave Dean's room. Finally, the day came when the doctor said Dean was well enough to be discharged.

He was under strict doctor orders. Limited activity the first couple of days, after that, depending on how he felt, his activity could increase. He had a follow up appointment in a week. And, keep all the medications exactly like they had been given in the hospital until he saw the doctor again.

Dean was both relieved and anxious to be leaving the room he had spent so much time in. Sure, it was starting to get to him, but it had become his safety net too. He wasn't sure if he was ready for the real world again, but until he tried, he'd never know. And, Sammy needed him to be with him again. That he knew for sure. So, with hesitation he sat in the wheelchair and was pushed outside for the first time in weeks.

He was still a little wobbly when standing, but he didn't want a lot of help, he could at least sit in his baby by himself. He was glad his ankle had healed to the point he didn't need crutches. A walking boot was put on his foot with orders to wear it anytime he was up walking around. He slipped into the familiarity of his baby. It was like she wrapped her arms around him and calmed his nerves. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the coolness of her window.

"You okay there?" John had been keeping a close eye on his son, knowing this was a big step for him. They had already drove 20 minutes and Dean hadn't made any signs of wanting to shift positions or acknowledge life again.

"Yeah." He mumbled without opening his eyes or moving his head.

Nothing else was said the entire ride to Bobby's. Dean concentrated on keeping his breathing slow and even and his hands from trembling. That seemed to be the only thing he could concentrate on. He didn't even notice when they had pulled up to Bobby's.

John turned the motor off, sitting for a moment before getting his son's attention. "Hey, Dean, we're here."

Dean sucked in a deep breath, pulling himself away from the window and slowly opening the door. Sam was there. He had been waiting by the front door for what felt like hours, and finally Dean was there. Not in a hospital anymore, well enough to be home.

"Jesus, Sammy, give me a little space, will ya?" Dean gripped as he tried to get out of the car, only to find his brother inches away.

"Hey, Sam, why don't you grab our bags?" John requested, getting him to give his brother some space.

"You okay?" John whispered to Dean as he made his way beside him. Not touching him, but there in case he needed the support with his overwhelming weakness.

"Yeah." Was the only reply he gave.

Once inside, he made his way straight to his room. He collapsed on the bed. He had positioned his head at the foot of the bed, it was the end facing the door, and he laid on his stomach. He just needed a moment. A moment to himself. A moment alone. A moment of complete silence. No machines. No nurses. No hallway noises. No dad. No brother. Just him, and silence.

Sam was ready to run upstairs and check on Dean when John stopped him.

"Give him some space." He ordered.

Of course, Sam huffed off, not happy with his dad's orders, but he obeyed them anyhow. He made his way into the library where Bobby was sitting and he collapsed in the chair across from him.

"What's got your panties in a wad?" Bobby asked the sulking brother.

"Dad won't let me check on Dean! He said to give him some space. What if something is wrong?"

"Hey, he's right. You need to give him some space right now. He's had a long couple of weeks, full of nonstop noises and the hustle and bustle of the hospital. This isn't going to be easy on him. Just give him some time to settle in and get his bearings."

"Yeah, whatever." Sam wasn't happy that Bobby was agreeing with his dad, so he continued to pout.

John had needed the time alone too, he left not long after he dropped Dean off, and headed to the pharmacy to get his medications. He also stopped by and got some fast food for dinner. He figured it would be easiest for all of them.

When he returned he was met at the door by Sam, wanting to know if he could check on Dean yet.

"Let me do it, okay?" John suggested as he handed Sam the bags in his hands. "Here, put these in the kitchen, I grabbed some burgers, I'll go get Dean to come eat."

Sam headed to the kitchen, Bobby followed to help, and John made his way upstairs.

He knocked lightly on the door. It wasn't closed all the way, Dean had left it barely cracked opened. "Dean?" He slowly pushed the door open and made his way into the room. He knelt beside the bed where his son was laying, placing a hand on his back and rubbing gently. "You okay?"

Dean just looked at his dad. He didn't answer, his eyes were glistening from the tears.

"I know, this isn't easy. And I hope today is the hardest day for you, but, I know it won't be. But, your brother won't stop aggravating the hell out of me, and you need to eat and take your medicine before the pain gets too bad. I stopped and got burgers and fries, extra onions on yours."

Dean just turned his head away.

"Come on, Dean, you have to eat."

"I'm not hungry."

"Doesn't matter. You have to eat with your medicine."

"Then I won't take it."

"Oh, yes you will! I'm not going to be dealing with you at 3am when the pain is so bad nothing will help it."

"I never asked you to deal with anything!" Dean didn't mean to sound angry. He really wasn't. He was more overwhelmed than anything. "Sorry." He muttered.

"Hey, it's okay. But, you really do need to eat and take your medicine, please? I can bring it up here if you want."

Dean pushed himself to a seated position, wiping his hands down his face to make sure all the tears were dry. "No, I'll go downstairs, if I don't Sammy's going to be bugging the hell out of everyone."

John chuckled. "Yeah, you're probably right."

"Dad, I'm sorry. I'm just a bit overwhelmed right now."

"Yeah, I get it. It's okay." He wrapped his arm around his son's shoulders until they reached the stairs. He then released him, giving him the independence, he needed, or the image of independence.

"Dean, it's about time!" Sam pouted, sitting at the table.

"Quit being such a whiney bitch!" Dean replied as he sat down.

"Whatever!" Sam whined. "You're being an ass!"

"Well excusssse me!" Dean was getting irritated. He was trying. He really was, but for some reason the overwhelming feeling was coming out as hatred, he didn't mean for it to, it's just the way it was and he didn't know how to stop it.

"You need to go back to the hospital! It was a lot better without you here!" Sam spit out before he thought about the words he had said.

"BOYS!" John shouted. "That's enough! I don't want to hear a word from either of you, now eat your food!"

Sam grabbed his burger and shoved a huge bite into his mouth, giving Dean a hateful look.

Dean sighed, dropping his glance to the table in front of him. He pushed the burger away from him, looking back at Sam. "You're a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Dean!" John shouted his warning.

"And you're a meanie!"

"Sam!" John warned again.

Dean stood up so fast he pushed his chair to the ground, out of reflex Sam jumped to his feet in a defensive stance.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Dean shouted. "I'm just going upstairs, I'm not going to fight you or anything." He pushed Sam's shoulder making him fall back into his chair.

Sam had reached up and grabbed Dean's wrist, twisting his arm, pulling it away from him. Dean took a swing at Sam's head, his fist coming in contact with Sam's face.

"LET GO OF ME!" Dean shouted as he swung.

Sam released Dean's arm with the punch and Dean turned his back to his brother, ready to leave the fight and retreat to his room. Sam, jumped from his seat, tackling his brother to the ground. Not like it was a hard task, after all, Dean was still weak and unsteady on his feet with a half healed, broken ankle.

Dean landed on his stomach, flat on the ground. Sam's body fell on top of him, his weight pinning him to the ground. Sam's breaths were coming in hard pants, breathing heavy in Dean's ear. His body trembling from the altercation, that was purely inflicted by reflexes and built up, out of control emotions.

"NO! GET OFF OF ME! STOP!" Dean started screaming at the top of his lungs. Fighting to push Sam off his back. Fighting to regain the control he had lost. Fighting his mind, his memories. Tears filled his eyes and his body started shaking.

Sam rolled off of him, he hadn't meant to knock him down, the full effect of what he had just done hadn't sunk in yet.

Dean curled his knees to his chest, rolling onto his side. He wrapped his arms around his legs and buried his face between his knees. "No, please, don't. Dad… help." His voice was broken and sobbing. Barely audible. His body shaking, his eyes squeezed shut.

"Dean, hey, Dean, it's okay." John had rushed to Dean, placing his hand on his shoulders. "Shhh, shhh, it's okay, it's okay. I'm right here, no one is going to hurt you."

"Dad?" Sam sounded so scared. "I didn't mean to, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Sam, it's okay, I know you didn't mean anything by it." John assured him.

Dean didn't move from his position. His body still shaking, sobs of "Please, no." "Dad help." making their way past his lips. Tears rolled off his face and puddled on the floor.

John stayed by his side, trying to comfort him, trying to calm his son, trying to keep him from completely breaking. God, this was harder than he had expected. He never would have imagined this reaction from his oldest son.

"Dean, I'm sorry!" Sam sobbed. He was too scared to move away from his brother. "I didn't mean to, Dean, I'm sorry."

"Sam, he'll be okay, you just gotta give him some time." Bobby reassured him, placing his hand on Sam's shoulder and kneeling beside him.

"I didn't mean to, Bobby!"

"I know you didn't."

"Dean, please be okay, I'm sorry."

About 30 minutes had passed before Dean had completely stopped shaking and his breathing calmed. He stayed curled into his ball for a few minutes longer while he tried to calm his mind.

"Dean? Are you okay?" Sam asked. He sounded so childish, so scared, so broken.

Dean nodded his head, forcing out words that didn't want to come. "I'm okay." He reassured Sam.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do anything to hurt you."

Dean drew in a deep breath and, with the help of his dad, he straightened his body and moved to a seated position, leaning against his dad. "I know you didn't." He kept his eyes closed, he still needed some type of safety.

He tried to stand but his legs were too shaky, Bobby jumped up and helped Dean stand, followed by John. Sam couldn't seem to move. He was frozen in place, too afraid to touch his brother.

Dean walked past Sam, ruffing up the top of his head. "It's okay." He said as he walked by. He shrugged off his dad and Bobby, he didn't need, or want, their help right now. He made his way up the stairs and back to his bed. He laid the same way as before, only this time, he laid on his back. Fear had risen in him and laying on his stomach seemed to cause more fear than he was able to handle.

A while had passed, Dean laid with his head by the barely opened door. He didn't want it completely closed. He couldn't handle the thought of being closed in another room. He had been the same way at the hospital, but it was less obvious since the hospital doors always seemed to stay opened at least a little.

But, even if it was closed, there were lots of windows and light in the room so he didn't feel closed in. At Bobby's, their room was dark. There was one small window and it had a dark covering over it. The walls were a dark wood color and the covers were tan and white.

Usually they enjoyed the darkened room. When you're trying to recover from a long hunt, only able to rest in the middle of the day, the darkness was a godsend. But, right now, it wasn't so pleasant. It made Dean feel enclosed, captured, caged.

John knocked on the door, again.

"Dean?"

He slowly pushed the door open and walked in. He sat on the edge of the bed by his son. Dean didn't bother moving or shifting positions. He just looked up at his dad.

"You okay?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry about that."

"It's okay, I'm just making sure you're okay now, that was one hell of a reaction."

"Yeah, sorry."

"Wanna talk about it?"

Dean shook his head. "No, not really."

Sam made his way into the room. John had told him to stay downstairs until he had a chance to talk to Dean alone, to make sure he was okay. But, Sam being Sam, didn't follow orders very well.

"Dean?"

Dean turned his head to look at his little brother who had knelt on the floor beside their dad, resting his arms on the edge of the bed and his chin on his arms.

"I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I'm fine."

"I didn't mean to scare you… or hurt you."

"I know you didn't, it's okay, besides I kind of started the whole thing."

"No, I was being a brat, I know I was."

Dean just grinned at Sam, he couldn't disagree.

"You know, I'd never hurt you, right? Not like that!"

Dean drew in a breath and closed his eyes, opening them again, he shifted unto his side, so he could look directly at his brother. "I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened down there. It was just some stupid reaction. I never thought you were going to actually hurt me."

Sam gave a half, sideways grin. "I'll try to do better."

"Sam, you didn't do anything wrong, I promise, okay? It was all me, had nothing to do with you. You got it?"

Sam nodded his head. "Yeah, okay."

"Sammy, I'm serious. Look, my mind isn't working quite right yet. Everything still gets all jumbled up. Sometimes I react in ways I shouldn't. Like tonight. I wasn't really upset at you. I've just been… I don't know… overwhelmed. And, I guess it all just came out wrong, but I didn't know how to stop it, how to fix it. And, sometimes, things, like memories, will just pop in my head. It doesn't have to be anything big that causes it, really, it doesn't have to be anything at all, it just happens, and I guess I just react accordingly?"

That last part was more of a question, because really, Dean didn't understand it all. He just knew what happens to his brain, but doesn't know why, and sometimes he doesn't even realize he's reacted to what his brain is thinking. Tonight, was the first time he had reacted the way he did. Usually, it would be a flinch, or he would daze out, or give a weird expression, but never anything like what had just happened.

"That's a normal response." John added. "It will probably happen again, maybe a few times, before it gets better. It's going to take some time for your brain to straighten itself out. And, Sam, you need to be more aware of that. But, also, you both need to be aware of each other, Dean. Sam is going through his own processing. He's dealing with what happened just like you are. And you need to try to keep that in mind as well."

"Yes sir." Dean replied. "I'm sorry, Sammy."

"It's okay, you didn't do anything. Like you said, you were just overwhelmed and didn't know how to control the way you were reacting to it. I've done that lots of times, lately. Everything seems to come out as anger, or pouty."

"You're always pouty!"

"And you're always a meanie."

"Seriously, Sam, could you come up with a more childish name?" Dean ended his question with a smile.

"Shut up!" Sam replied in a playful tone and soft punch to Dean's shoulder.

Dean just giggled at his little brother.

"Okay, you two." John chimed in. "You both have medicine you have to take, then I'd suggest you get some sleep, it's been a long day for all of us."

"Yes sir." They both replied in unison.

John left the room to gather their meds and drinks, and he grabbed a protein bar for Dean as well. Returning to the room, he tossed Dean the bar.

"Here, you have to eat with your medicine."

Dean rolled his eyes but knew his dad was right, if he didn't he'd be throwing it right back up, or suffering from a tummy ache all night.

John handed Sam a bottle of water and his pills.

"What are those?" Dean questioned. He hadn't realized Sam was taking medicine too.

"Sleeping stuff, and crap that's supposed to make me happy." Sam replied with sarcasm as he swallowed them down.

"It's medication to help him sleep, without nightmares, the same as you take, only not as strong, and an antidepressant and antianxiety medicine, just to help him get over the hump and back on his feet." John clarified.

He then made his way to Dean's bed. He had finished eating the protein bar and drank half the water. Holding his hand out, his dad gathered his pills and placed them in Dean's hand.

"What are those?" Sam asked.

"The same… plus pain medicine and stuff so all the medicine doesn't make me sick. There's also a stool softener, because, well, we don't want that hurting too bad." Dean felt a little embarrassed with the last part.

"But, his medicine is different than yours" John clarified for Sam. "Dean's is stronger, for obvious reasons. And he's still on steroids for the swelling, and medication for the dizziness he has."

Dean just shrugged his shoulders at Sam.

"That's a lot." Sam replied.

"Yeah, well, obviously the doc wants me drugged up!" Dean joked.

"Okay, boys, no more fighting tonight, do I make myself clear?" John looked back and forth at both his boys.

"Yes sir." They both replied.

"Good. Now, you need to lay down and get some sleep. Don't be trying to fight the effects of the medicine. You both need some rest."

"Yes sir." Again, they both replied as they laid under their covers.

John told them both good night and started to leave the room, closing the door behind him.

"Dad!" Dean spoke with such innocence.

"Yeah?"

"Will you leave the door opened? Just a little? Please?"

"Yeah, of course. Night boys."

"Night." Their voices blended together.


	12. Chapter 12

**CHAPTER 12**

Once their dad was away from their room, both boys rolled over to face each other.

"Does it scare you?" Sam asked.

"What?"

"Having the door closed?"

"Yeah, kind of."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I guess I just don't want to be shut in a room, like before."

"Yeah, me either. It kind of scares me too."

"It'll be okay, you know that, right Sammy?"

"Yeah, I know, that's what everyone keeps telling me."

"They keep telling me that too, and I believed them, until tonight."

"Dean, I didn't mean to do anything to set you off."

"I know you didn't."

"What happened?"

"I don't know, I guess when you landed on my back, and I was on my stomach, and you were breathing heavy in my ear, and your body, it was trembling… I don't know… too many similarities I guess."

"To when you were… you know…raped?"

"Yeah."

"Does it bother you?"

"What?"

"What happened, the… the rape… does it bother you?"

"I mean, yeah. Of course. But, I try not to let it. But, it's like… little things… like… I can't say it, Sammy."

"Say what?"

"You know, that word."

"Rape?"

"Yeah."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. Maybe because it makes it too real, or I'd be admitting that's what happened. I don't know. I guess because I'm Dean fucking Winchester, and I'm tougher than that. That shit isn't supposed to happen to me, to either of us."

"But it did."

"Yeah, I was there, remember?"

"Yeah, so was I!"

"I know, and I'm so sorry for that."

"For what?"

"I wasn't strong enough, Sam. I couldn't fight him off, I couldn't protect you, not like I needed to. Not like I should have."

"It's not like you were given much of a chance."

"Still, I should have been more prepared, I should have been stronger."

"How much stronger do you think you could have been? I mean, damn, you were beaten all to hell, man. You don't know how many times I honestly thought I was chained there, watching you die. But, somehow you managed to always fight through. I mean, hell, even at the end, you managed to make your way to the door and unlatch it! You literally saved us both, with what energy I'll never know."

"Yeah, well, I just did what I had to."

"Dude, why don't you ever take credit for yourself?"

"I… I don't know. I guess because I don't really do anything to deserve it?"

"Of course, you do! Man, you've been saving my ass my whole life. You've gone above and beyond when it comes to helping people, to saving people. And you seriously don't think you do anything to deserve praise?"

"Sammy, honest, I don't do anything that special. I just do my job, I just do what needs to be done. That's it. I'm not worth fussing over."

"That's bullshit! You're my big brother, of course you are!"

"Think what you want. But I'm telling you, you're wrong."

"No, I'm not."

"Whatever, bitch, these meds are kicking my ass, go to sleep."

"Yeah, mine too, night, jerk."

"Night."

"Hey, Dean."

"Yeah?"

"I'm glad you're here man."

"Yeah, me too."

Morning came way too soon. Dean had known he had at least one nightmare because when he woke, he was tangled in his sheets and blankets. But, the meds they were both taking seemed to be doing its job. Dean didn't remember his dreams and didn't wake Sam up when he had them.

Dean felt grimy. He had a layer of sweat that seemed to be sticking to him. Dad had come in to tell them breakfast was ready, but Dean needed a shower first. He groaned as he stretched his body, and laid there while Sam rolled himself out of bed.

"You coming?" He asked Dean before walking out of the room.

"Yeah, but I gotta shower first!"

"Okay."

And with that, Dean was alone again. He gathered clean clothes and made his way to the bathroom, still half asleep. The shower didn't do much as far as waking him up, but it did wash away the filth that he felt. He didn't take long, he had hoped everyone would stay downstairs and eat while he was showering.

He left the door opened, just a little. He couldn't manage to close it all the way, as long as it wasn't latched, he was okay. He would be okay. This was Bobby's. He was safe. He was safe.

Panic started filling him. He leaned over the sink, wiping the steam from the mirror, he took a long look at himself. "I'm safe. I'm safe. I'm safe." He repeated over and over.

He put on a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt and covered it with a hoodie. He didn't feel like dressing in his normal attire. He needed something more comfortable. Something that would make him feel hidden, feel safe.

He made his way downstairs. He really wasn't hungry, but he knew he had more medicine to take so he needed to eat something.

"Good morning." John greeted him as he sat at the table.

He just grunted as a reply. His eyes still felt heavy.

"Hey, Dean, what 'cha wanna do today?" Sam sounded bubbly, too bubbly.

God, Dean just wanted to curl up somewhere and go back to sleep. Why was his brother so bubbly?

"Sleep!" Dean replied as he picked at the food on his plate.

"Dude, you just woke up!"

"You may have just woken up, but I'm still half asleep."

"Aww, you're a sourpuss!"

"Sam!" John snapped at his youngest son, he was not going to have a repeat of the night before.

"Yeah, whatever." Dean replied as he forced a fork full of eggs into his mouth.

It didn't go down very easily. Maybe he needed to wet his throat? He took a big drink of the orange juice in front of him. Ugh, that did not settle very well either. He closed his eyes, willing himself to just get through breakfast.

"You okay this morning, Dean?" John asked.

Dean opened his eyes back up. "My head hurts, and I'm still half asleep, but yeah, I guess."

John just nodded, not that Dean saw his nod, not that Dean had lifted his head.

He forced another bite of food down. Nope, drinking did not help the food go down any easier. He took another drink, the acid of the orange juice bit against the uneasiness of his stomach.

"Can I have some water?" Dean asked.

Normally he would have just gotten it himself, but right now he was too busy trying to keep his head from pounding off his shoulders and the food from coming back up.

"Yeah sure." Bobby replied as he retrieved a bottle of water.

Dean tried to twist the cap off but didn't seem to have much luck as far as strength went this morning.

"Gimme that!" Bobby said as he took the bottle back and opened the lid for him.

"Thanks." Dean replied as he took a drink. He managed for force a total of five bites of food, half a glass of orange juice, and half a bottle of water into his stomach.

"What's a matter, don't you like my cooking?" Bobby asked, he knew it had nothing to do with his cooking, but was trying to get a response out of Dean, a reason he wasn't eating.

"No, it's fine, I just… don't feel too well this morning." Dean replied.

All he wanted to do was go back upstairs and back to bed. He wasn't sure he would be able to without the contents of his stomach coming back up.

"Here, how about you take your medicine." John suggested. "It'll help with that pounding head of yours."

Dean just held his hand up, palm out, stopping his dad from giving him his meds. He slowly shook his head no.

John waited, to see if he was going to give an explanation, until he noticed all the color drain from his son's face. Quickly he grabbed the trash can as Dean tried to rush out of his seat, neither of them quick enough. Dean's stomach contents ended up all over the floor. He was thankful when his dad offered the trash can, he finished vomiting in it.

Once the dry heaves had finished, Dean pushed himself back and fell against his dad.

"Feel better now?"

Dean nodded his head.

"It's probably just your nerves. Doctor said this might happen."

Dean shrugged his shoulders, closing his eyes to catch his breath and gather himself.

"Can I go back to bed?" Dean asked.

"How about you lay on the couch for a little while?"

Dean just nodded his head.

John and Bobby helped Dean stand and walk to the couch. He seemed to collapse into the cushions.

"Medicine." John said as he held out a water bottle in one hand and pills in the other.

Dean rolled his eyes, propping himself up so he could take them without spilling anything. His hands trembled, but he managed to get the pills down. He collapsed back down and closed his eyes. It didn't take long before he was in a deep sleep.

Bobby cleaned the mess Dean had made while John was taking care of him. He knew Dean would be embarrassed enough by vomiting, no sense in making a big deal about it. The boy needed to worry about feeling better, not the little things, like mopping a floor.

"Is Dean okay?" Sam asked, concerned about his behavior this morning.

"Yeah, the doctor said the first couple of days his nerves would be on end, and predicted he'd feel sick and want to sleep all the time. It's just an effect from being back into the real world. Part of depression, that's all."

"Dean has depression?"

"Well, Sam, you're taking an antidepressant too, so wouldn't you think he'd need one as well?"

"Yeah, but, I'm not really depressed, I mean, the pills help, but, it's just the memory stuff, mostly. The PTSD crap the doctor talked about, I don't have a problem being depressed."

"Yeah, you do, right now anyhow. But the medication is helping with that, so you don't feel it anymore. But, Dean has a lot more mental healing to do. He's been in the safety of the hospital since this has happened. You remember when you asked him if he felt safe?"

"Yeah, he said no, not really."

"Exactly, and that was while he was in the hospital, I'm sure that unsafe feeling has multiplied now that he's in a new environment, no longer protected by the same walls."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense. He won't close doors because it scares him. That's why he wanted the bedroom door opened last night. He said he doesn't want to be enclosed in a room again. He doesn't feel safe, he feels like he'll be hurt again if he gets trapped behind a door."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm talking about."

"But, that doesn't make sense, I mean, I get it, I don't like feeling like I'm going to be entrapped either, but, we're at Bobby's this is a safe place, it always has been. Is that something he can just forget?"

"No, he hasn't forgotten, this has nothing to do with the location of where he's at. Yes, it helps that he's in a place he's always felt safe, that's why we decided this was the best place for you boys to finish healing, but this is mostly what's in his mind. His mind is fighting itself right now, part of it is telling him this is a safe place, and part of it is telling him that nothing is safe anymore."

"Yeah." Sam replied, he was thinking, remembering when he felt the same way, right after it all happened. "I think my mind was doing the same thing, but it's better now… I think… mostly."

"Yeah, you're doing good, Sam. I'm proud of how strong you are. You and Dean both."

Sam just smiled at his dad. He remembered the conversation him and Dean had, he remembered Dean saying he wasn't worth praising, that he didn't do anything worthy of anyone's attention and praise.

It didn't take long for Dean to start having a nightmare. Without his bedtime medication, it wasn't as easy as the dreams he had at night. John was by his side, almost instantly. He rubbed his hand over his son's shoulders and back, speaking calm words to him.

According to what the doctor had told him, it was best to try to let Dean's dreams work for what they are intended. He needed to work through them, work through his memories, work through his fears. If he can't face them while he's awake, then he needs to be allowed to face them while he's asleep.

He was told, as long as it was mild, to try to comfort him, without waking him. If they got severe enough then he would need to be woken and calmed down before he went over the edge. It was a fine line they were walking, a fine line that Dean was balancing on.

It was a line that scared the hell out of John, but he was willing to walk with his son. He knew, if it scared him that much, then Dean would be terrified for sure.

Dean fisted the edges of the cushions; his face was screwed tight with discomfort and pain. The memories flooded in like a broken dam. They didn't make much sense, they were still jumbled up. He knew the time line was wrong, he knew some of the details were mixed up and missing, but they were there none the less.

Sweat covered his forehead, sticking the ends of his hair to his face. John brushed them away, and laid a cool, damp rag on his forehead. "Its okay, Dean, its okay. I'm right here. You're safe." He cooed to his sleeping son.

Dean tossed his head back and forth. Mumbles and groans exited his lips. His breathing was unstable, his heartrate had picked up. His muscles tightened. His body went stiff. Puffs of breaths were coming out, hard and full of fear.

Dean's eyes shot opened as he quickly moved into a seated position, his feet flat against the solid security of the floor. His eyes were wild, unfocused, he stared at his dad in confusion as his mind settled down. John continued to attempt to calm him, to reassure him that everything was okay.

Dean's body slowly calmed and his vision cleared with a couple heavy blinks.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm right here. You okay now?"

Dean wiped his hands down his face, the rag John used to cool him had fallen at his feet. He took a few deep breaths to slow his breathing as he rested his face against his palms. Once he felt his breathing slow he raised his head, looked around the room.

"We're alone, I sent Sam down the road with Bobby, that kid's been driving me crazy!"

Dean gave a quick sideways curl of his lips, an attempt at a half smile. He knew what his dad meant. He knew how annoying Sam could be. A few deeper breaths and another swipe of his hands down his face, he looked at his dad, his eyes deep with emotions. His expression looked lost.

"I… I… I think I'm trying… well, my brain is trying… to remember things."

"Yeah? That's a good thing."

Dean shook his head. "I don't see how."

"Because, you have to process things, you have to remember what you don't want to, in order to move forward. It's a process."

"Not a very easy one."

"No one said it would be easy, Dean, what you went through, it wasn't easy. The healing, it's going to be just as hard."

"I don't get it."

"Get what?"

"I don't know, I don't want to sound like a whiney bitch."

"Hey, it's just you and me, kid, no one is judging anything you're saying."

"It's just not fair! I mean, damn it… it hurt like hell! Still does sometimes. But, I didn't do anything to cause it, not this time, I promise I didn't! I'm hurting, and no, not just physically! And why? Huh? Tell me, why!"

"I don't have an answer for that. Some things just don't make sense. Some people don't make sense. Sometimes, there is no reason for things that happen, you know that."

"Yeah, I know. But… not like this. I mean, I try to do good. I sacrifice so much, for everyone else. I try, Dad. And, for what? For this? To go through hell? Do you know what he wanted? He wanted names and locations of other hunters. I couldn't tell him that. No matter what, I couldn't. Because there was no way in hell I could have knowingly put someone else in the same place I was in, but what good did it do me? I'm completely falling apart, again, and all over someone else's safety and comfort!"

John sat silently while Dean vented. He was angry. That was to be expected. He was unhappy with the entire situation. That was also, to be expected. Yes. John knew his son had sacrificed for others. He's sacrificed his entire life for the good of others. The amount of people he's saved has been more than anyone could ever keep track of. The sacrifices he's made hasn't always been easy, in fact, at some points, it's been right down hard.

John was sure this was the hardest sacrifice his son had ever had to make. And, not only for the other hunters, but for his brother too. He kept himself strong, kept fighting, to keep his brother safe and out of harm's way. But, did he hear him right? Did Dean say 'again'? He's falling apart again? All for someone else's safety and comfort? When had he fallen apart before? When had he ever been anything but strong?

"Again?" John couldn't help it, he had to know. Dean had said it, loud and clear, and John needed to know.

Dean huffed, buried his face in his hands and just sat there, shaking his head.

"Dean, I admit, I haven't always been the best dad. I haven't always been there like I should have been. Hell, sometimes, I was right down neglectful, and I'm sure, if we are both honest about it, I've even been abusive, but I'm trying, kid. I'm trying right now. I'm trying hard to be there, to understand."

"Dad… when haven't I been falling apart?"

John sighed, how could he not see it? How could he possibly miss the fact his son felt like he was falling apart?

"Dean…"

John stopped, he didn't even know what to say to that. Dean looked up at his dad, that expression. Oh god, that expression on his son's face. It was begging him to help. It was seeking a father to make everything better. John wondered if he was even able. He wondered if he truly had what it took to be the dad his son… no his sons… needed.

"Dean, how about we work on fixing that?"

Dean chewed on his bottom lip, not sure what to think, what to believe. His dad had let him down so many times, why would he think this would be any different?

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I go back to sleep now?"

John patted Dean on the shoulder. "How about you try to stay awake a little longer?"

Dean sighed but nodded his head. At that point, Sam and Bobby walked through the door.

"It's about time you decided to wake your lazy ass up!" Sam said as he walked into the kitchen, sitting down the bags that were in his hands.

"Yeah, well, it was better than having to look at your face all day." Dean replied in his normal, sassy way.

"Ha ha, joke's on you 'cuz it just saved me from having to look at you."

"Wow, good one there, college boy!" Dean rolled his eyes with that, then pushed himself off the couch and started heading toward the stairs.

"Where ya going?" Bobby asked.

"I need a shower. Sorry, I didn't realize I needed to ask permission and inform everyone of my every move." Dean replied back.

Ugh. Why couldn't he seem to stop the irritation that kept coming out of his mouth?

"Watch your mouth, boy. I was just asking."

"Sorry." Dean mumbled as he made his way upstairs.


	13. Chapter 13

**CHAPTER 13**

"How's he doing?" Bobby turned his attention to John.

"Irritated right now, things are still coming out as anger."

"Yeah, I've noticed." Bobby chuckled.

"Hey, Sam?" John directed his attention to his youngest son.

"Yeah?"

"How about you and me go take a walk?"

"Uh, okay." Sam was clearly confused.

"Do you mind keeping an eye on Dean?" John asked Bobby.

"He's a grown man, he'll be fine." Bobby replied. After getting an evil eye from John he agreed he'll keep an eye on him while John and Sam were away.

"What's up?" Sam asked after they had stepped outside and closed the door behind them.

"Let's walk." John suggested as he stepped off the front porch, John didn't want to talk near the home.

"Yeah, sure." Sam followed his dad down the steps and walked beside him.

"Sam, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Dean said something to me, today, and I was hoping you could help me with it."

"I'll try. What is it?"

"Without breaking Dean's trust, basically he's upset right now, which is to be expected."

Sam nodded, agreeing that sounded about right.

"Once he started talking he just kept on, I don't think he was really thinking about what he was saying, which is fine, I let him vent because that's what he needed. But, he made a comment about falling apart 'again'. When I asked him to clarify when he was falling apart before; he asked me when was he not falling apart?"

"Okay."

"Okay? Look, I'll tell you the same thing I told him. I know I haven't always been the best dad. I know I've been absent, a lot, but I'm trying now. How the hell have I missed the fact my son has felt like he's been falling apart for… what? His entire life?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"Sam!"

"What? What do you want me to say? He's been through a lot, sometimes, he's barely holding it together. Somedays I'm barely holding it together. I'm not saying every day is that bad, but it's not always the greatest either. We've been through a lot of crap in our lives, and yeah, most of it you weren't there for, so what do you expect?"

John drew his lips into a tight line, slowly nodding at what Sam had said. He knew his boys had seen a lot in their lives, they've been through more than anyone he's ever known. And, he hasn't exactly helped with that any. Most of it was probably his fault if he really stopped and thought about it.

"Sam, I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make it better. But, I really am sorry. For everything."

"It's okay, Dad. Right now, I just want my brother back. I don't care what it takes."

"Yeah, I know you do. That's what I want too. And, I'm trying, but I need help understanding exactly what I'm working with."

"You're working with a broken canvas."

Sam's words were straight forward and blunt. He knew, he knew his brother wasn't perfect. He knew his brother has always struggled. Mostly, he struggles with self-esteem. Even though Sam couldn't see Dean the same way he saw himself. He had always seen Dean as a hero, he was always there for Sam. He was his life saver. His lifeline.

"How so?" John was really trying to understand what he needed to know. He was trying to help anyway he could, but he didn't even know his boys anymore.

"He thinks he's crap. He had to grow up way too fast. He's had to be not only my brother, but my mom and my dad, and that wasn't exactly easy on him. I wasn't easy on him. I know that, but it would have helped if he had help."

"Yeah." What else could John say? He knew Sam was right.

"Dad, he's been through more than I even know, and I know a lot. Even if he hasn't told me, there's a lot I've figured out on my own."

John nodded. Understanding what Sam was saying. Sam had figured his brother out on his own. It wasn't like he was exactly an open book. He was a hard person to figure out. It took years of following his older brother around to be able to see through the mask he wore. There was no way John was going to be able to see through it in a couple of weeks.

But, he had a good start, Sam confirmed that. If Dean talked about anything, any type of feelings at all, then he was getting somewhere with him.

"Dad." Sam added. "Dean thinks you're a hero. He always has. He's looked up to you and hangs on your every word. Honestly, I don't understand why, or how he can see you like he does, but, right now, he needs the person he sees in you. If you mess that up then you might as well pack your bags and leave because he'll shut down, turn back in toward himself. Find another hunt to cover the heartache, exactly like he was trained to do."

The men walked back toward the house in silence. John entered the kitchen to help Bobby with dinner and Sam made his way upstairs.

Carefully, Sam made his way into the room he shared with his brother. He didn't want to startle him, or cause him any discomfort if he wanted to be alone.

"Dean, you awake?"

"If I wasn't awake, you'd know it."

"How do you think that?"

"Because I'd be having a nightmare, duffus."

"Yeah, how have they been?"

"At night, I don't remember them, but during the day… well, they're nightmares, Sam. How are your nightmares?"

"Yeah, I gotcha. How you doing?"

"Just peachy!"

"That crappy, huh?"

Dean didn't reply, he just remained laying on his bed, his head near the partly opened door.

"Dad's worried about you." Sam added.

"Yeah, I gathered that with as much as he's been wanting to talk lately."

"He wants to figure you out!" Sam chuckled.

Dean followed Sam with a laugh of his own. "Good luck with that!"

"Yeah, that's what I say."

Dean just shook his head. He couldn't believe his life had come to this.

The boys remained in the room, in complete silence.

John and Bobby had finished dinner and John made his way to the boys' room. Looking over his two boys who laid in the dark, in the silence. "Dinner's ready." John announced.

"Yes sir." Sam replied.

John nodded, tapping Dean on the shoulder, you need to come eat too.

"Yes sir." Dean replied.

John turned and made his way out of the room, closing the door behind him.

He had only taken his hand off the nob for a moment before he had realized what he did.

Inside the room, the boys were peaceful, laying on their beds. John had announced dinner was ready, both boys were more interested in staying in the peaceful quiet but had decided they needed to obey their dad's orders.

Then. The click. The click of the door closing… the click of the door latching. Dean jumped, pulling himself away from the spot he was laying and scrambled into the far corner of the bed.

He curled himself into the tightest ball that he could, rocking back and forth. His breathing had become a form of panic. He felt like his heartbeat couldn't even keep up with him.

Oh god. Oh god. Oh god. He was shut into a room… the room… the room… the room was hell… hell… he didn't want to go back through hell. He'd been through hell enough. No. no. no. no. He couldn't do this. He can't. no. He needs to get away. Open the door! Someone, open the door! Get him out. Help! Please, help!

"Dean!" Sam shouted at his brother, his sudden movement startling the youngest Winchester.

He rushed to his brother's side. Grabbing his shoulders, big mistake! Dean jumped, throwing a punch at Sam and shoving him away, he had so much force he pushed Sam onto the floor.

"Dean, come on, snap out of it!"

Dean was lost in his head. There was no question about that.

John immediately opened the door back up. He left it fully opened. "Dean, oh god, Dean, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to." John was instantly at his son's side. Dean's fist striking John's face with a powerful punch. John remained steadfast when Dean tried to push him away.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Dean screamed as loud as he could. "STOP, PLEASE, NO!"

"Dean, Dean, it's me, Dad, it's okay, Dean. Snap out of it, son. It's okay, you're safe, I promise you're safe."

Bobby rushed upstairs to see what all the commotion was about.

"Dad closed the door, and Dean freaked out!" Sam said, looking up at Bobby with scared eyes, still sitting on the floor where his brother had pushed him.

"It's okay, Sam. Give him a minute, he should snap out of it." Bobby comforted.

"Dean, son. I need you to come back to me." John pleaded.

Dean remained lost in his own world. Lost in memories and fear. "Pppllease, please, don't hurt me, please." He begged, his eyes were looking directly at his dad, but it was like he was looking straight through him, seeing something that wasn't there. Someone who wasn't his dad.

"Dean! I'm not going to hurt you, son. I need you to look at me, I'm right here, no one is going to hurt you." John shook Dean's shoulders, a little harder than he meant to, but he needed to shake him out of his trance.

Dean shook with whole body shakes, he pushed himself further into the corner, if that was even possible. He started screaming, not words, just screams. The sound of terror filling the room.

"Dean, please, stop!" Sam cried out, covering his ears, trying to block the sounds of his brother's screams, the all too familiar sounds. "Dad, make him stop! Please, I can't, Dad, I can't!" Sam started letting the tears fall. He couldn't take listening to his brother's screams, not again.

Sam closed his eyes and covered his ears, the tears falling hard and fast. "Stop! Stop hurting him, just stop!" Sam's screams mixed with Dean's.

Oh god, John felt so lost. He felt so confused, so scared. Bobby was there. He was thankful Bobby was there. He would take any of the help he could get right now.

"Sam." Bobby knelt beside him on the floor. "No one is hurting your brother, it's all in his head right now. You hear me, boy? Dean's okay. He's not being hurt."

Sam grabbed Bobby, fists full of his shirt, his face buried in his chest, tears soaking through to his skin. "Then make him stop, please." He begged with his sobs.

"Dean! Stop this!" John shouted. "You're scaring your brother, stop screaming!"

He knew it was a below the belt shot, but he had hoped if anything, the mention of his brother would pull him back to reality.

It worked, Dean stopped yelling. But he didn't come back to reality. His eyes were still looking so lost, so far away.

Once Dean had stopped yelling, Sam pulled himself away from Bobby and scrambled to Dean's side. He didn't care if he got hit, he wrapped his arms around his brother and held on tight.

Dean returned the jester, he wrapped his arms around Sam. It wasn't a conscious movement. It was almost robotic, like he was in a zombie state. Too far away to be able to function with purpose.

The brothers sat there, both of their traumas brought to light. They embraced in each other's safety. Knowing even if they were lost they were still safely found in each other's arms.

Once the brothers had both calmed, and seemed to be drifting asleep in each other's comfort, John and Bobby stepped out of the room, giving them the space they needed. They were both too lost to even notice the older men leave.

John was sure to leave the door fully open. He wouldn't chance another breakdown. Not while this one was still in full swing.

John sat, tiredly, at the kitchen table, nursing a beer Bobby had given him. Bobby sat in the chair across from him. John rested his face in his hands, rubbing he weary eyes.

"What have I done?" He asked his best friend, the man who sat across from him. The man who was right there, beside him, helping him help his boys.

"Made an innocent mistake." Bobby said, as he sipped on his own beer.

"Innocent? Did you see my boy?"

"Not like you meant to do anything."

"No, I didn't, but there's nothing innocent about it."

"Yeah, well, the way I see it, if you didn't mean to do anything, means it was an accident, means it was innocent."

"Damn, Bobby. You always have a way of saying things."

"I just say it as I see it."

Sam, confused and still a little dazed, stumbled into the kitchen.

"Hey there. How's your brother doing?" John asked.

"Okay, I guess. He's asleep right now. I'm not completely sure what just happened."

John nodded. "I made a mistake. I accidently closed the door all the way and Dean had a meltdown."

"So did I?" It was a mixture of a question and a statement, he wasn't completely sure, but he thought he had.

"Yeah, yeah you did too."

Sam nodded. He retrieved his own beer from the fridge and sat at the table with his dad and Bobby. "Guess dinner's cold now, huh?"

Both the older men laughed, they needed the young man's witty humor.

It didn't take long for Sam to head back upstairs, back to his brother, bottle of water and pills in hand. He didn't want to wake Dean, figured he wouldn't be able to even if he wanted to, but, he knew his brother would need, at least, his sleeping pill to keep the nightmares from wearing on him too much.

He stood by his brother's bed for a few moments. Dean was huddled in a ball in the far corner of his bed. He wasn't stretched out and relaxed like he normally was, nor was his head near the opened door. Instead, he laid, lifeless and scared, succumbed to the darkness that had surrounded him.

"How's he doing?" John asked in a whisper, he stood in the doorway, not wanting to walk in, not wanting to disturb Dean.

Sam just shrugged and sat on the edge of his own bed, eyes still on Dean. "I… I think my mind got confused earlier."

"How so?" John asked as he moved inside the door, sitting beside his youngest son.

"I thought Dean was being hurt. His screams. I listened to them so much while… while we were… there… I thought, for a moment, while he was screaming, that we were back in that place and he was being hurt again. I was even too scared to open my eyes, to see that I was wrong, until he stopped."

John put a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder. "It'll happen, you're no different than Dean. That's to be expected. You may even find it'll happen again. But, the important thing is, that you remember it's okay."

Sam gave a quick smile to his dad. "Thanks."

John patted Sam's shoulder before removing his hand. "You should get some sleep, it's been a long night for all of us."

"Yeah."

John stood and covered Dean with a blanket, noticing the pills Sam sat on the dresser near his brother. John turned back to Sam. "You take your medicine?"

"Yes sir."

"That Dean's?" He asked pointing to the pile sitting by the water.

"Yes sir. I figure if he has a nightmare it'll be bad enough to wake me without his meds, and I'll give them to him then, if not then if he wakes, maybe he'll see them and know to take 'em."

"Good thinking." John said with a grin. "Night, Sammy."

"Night, Dad."

John walked out, not even touching the door this time, he left it wide open, didn't want to give Dean the illusion he was confined to a room if he was to wake.

Sam sighed, looking back over at Dean for a few more minutes before letting the medicine do its job. Sam closed his eyes, hoping Dean didn't need him and not be able to wake him, and fell asleep with exhaustion.

"Hey there, Champ." John sat beside Dean. Morning had come and Dean never moved through the night, with concern, John knew he needed to wake his oldest son, make sure he was okay.

"Hey." Dean sounded exhausted and broken.

That seemed to the word that had stuck in John's mind the most, "broken" his son was so broken. His voice, his body, his mind. But, maybe he wasn't. Maybe he was just cracked, teetering on the edge of brokenness. He needed to keep his son from shattering, he just wasn't completely sure how.

"How you feeling this morning?"

Dean just shrugged, pushing himself into a seated position against the wall.

"You feel like coming down for breakfast?"

"Not really."

John nodded. "Hurting?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, your night meds are sitting on the dresser, but I'll go get you something solid to put on your stomach, first. Oh, and, you don't need to take that sleeping pill, not during the day, everything else is pretty much the same morning and night."

Dean nodded. He had made his way to the bathroom to empty his bladder while his dad retrieved another protein bar for Dean.

"I'm sorry about last night." John said as he sat on Sam's bed, across from Dean.

Dean was eating the protein bar, and just looked up at his dad.

"I'm not even sure if I really remember last night."

"Yeah, well, it was pretty rough for you."

Dean shrugged, his eyes dropped to the floor, away from his dad, his forehead crinkled in confusion, he swallowed hard, trying to figure out if what he remembered was real, if that's what his dad was referring to.

"The door closed?"

"Yeah."

Dean nodded. "I remember hearing the click. It was like it echoed through my head. And, I remember I got scared. I was scared of being closed in a room, like before. But, I don't really remember anything that happened. And, I don't remember seeing anything but… well… I thought I was there again."

Dean left it at that. He was already confused enough. Already feeling weak enough. He didn't need this, he didn't need to open his mouth and make himself appear that much worse than he already felt.

"Yeah, I figured. You had a major meltdown. And, Sam followed right behind you, having his own. But, it's okay. I don't want you worrying about any of it. You got that? It's over now, it's a new day, and you both need to work on moving forward."

Dean just looked at his dad. He wasn't even sure what to say or how to act. He felt like… like… there was something he was missing. But, he didn't know what. And, who was missing what? Dean was missing something? Dad was missing something? Dean wasn't sure anymore.

He just wanted this nightmare to be over. He wanted to stop being a little cry baby, and go back to his illusion of being tough. That's what Dad wanted. Dean knew it. He wanted Dean to be strong again, probably so he could leave on another hunt. It had been weeks, he was sure his dad was itching to get back out there.

"You okay?"

John words broke through Dean's thoughts. Am I okay? Do I say yes? Is that what he wants to hear? Or do I tell him the truth? No, no I'm not okay. I just want to curl up somewhere and never see light of day again. Not be a damn burden to anyone, anymore. That's what I really want, but, I can't. I have to be strong, take care of Sammy. Dad's not going to do it. Bobby might. But, it's not Bobby's job. It's mine.

"Hey, Dean, answer me, son. Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

There. I told him what he wants to hear. Didn't I? Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? That's what I've always done before. But, if that's what he wanted then… then why is he still here? Why is he still sitting across from me? Why hasn't he left yet? Why the hell has he been here this whole time? Is it because I asked him to stay? Said I needed him? That's never mattered before. Why should it matter now?

"Dean?"

Oh god, he feels sorry for me, that's what it is! He doesn't need to feel sorry for me. I'm fine, really, I am. It's not like I haven't been through shit before. Okay, nothing exactly like this, but still, shit is shit. Right? Right.

"Dean?"

"I'm not as innocent as people think. I'll be fine. I've been through hell before. I've been through shit that's messed with my head, this isn't any damn different. This is just taking a little longer for all the physical crap to heal. But, I'll be fine. It's only because it's been so many years since I've been through this type of shit. It's only because I'm older now."

"Dean? What the hell, son?"

Oh shit! Did I just say that out loud? Shit. Shit. Shit. Great! Here goes another fucked up, chick flick, caring sharing conversation that I don't want to have. Why the hell can't everyone just leave me alone? If I chose to crumble and fall, what should it matter? Just go on with your own lives, and leave mine alone. Hey, that's a good song! I do like my music! It's been way too long since I've had a long drive with my music and my baby.

"Dean? I need you to come back to me, son? Talk to me."

I don't want to talk, why the hell can't he figure that out? What exactly am I supposed to say? Hey look at me, your fucked-up son?

"Dean!"

"What! Why the hell can't you just leave me alone?" Shit. Did I just yell at Dad? Oh man, he's going to rip me a new one, for sure! Sammy, I need to get Sammy out of the room. Wait. Where is Sam?

"Dean." John sighed. "I need you to at least come back to reality, get out of where ever you're at in your head."

Yeah, right, you want me to talk to you. You want to look like you're the caring dad you should have been all these years. Well, I'm not buying it, not now.

"Where were you all the other times when I needed you?"

What the hell, Dean? Why do you keep saying stupid shit out loud? Just trying to dig your own grave I guess.

"Dean." Again, John sighed. "I'm sorry, I should have been there for you more, but I'm here now, I'm trying."

"Too late. It isn't going to fix anything."

"I don't intend on fixing anything. I just want to be here, to help you through this, right now. So, would you please concentrate on the present and get your head out of the past?"

Dean closed his eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

Sam had made his way back to the room, he just stood in the doorway, watching the interaction take place. John looked up at his son, begging him for some guidance, some way to get through to Dean.


	14. Chapter 14

**CHAPTER 14**

Sam, closed his eyes and shook his head, making his way into the room and sat on Dean's bed, in front of him. He placed his hands on his brother's.

"Where are you at right now?" Sam asked.

Dean opened his eyes, looking directly at his brother, in confusion.

"In your head, where are you?" Sam clarified.

"I… I don't know." Dean's expression reflected the tone of his voice. Confusion had set in.

"Okay, then what's going through your mind, right now?"

"I…" Dean blinked a couple of hard blinks, clearing his head. He looked at his brother, then back at his dad. "I don't understand what's going on right now."

"You slipped away from us." John said with exhaustion.

Dean crinkled his forehead, pulling his hands from his brother's, wiping his hand down his face. "Sorry." He said, still clearly confused. "I'm okay now." He stood and made his way to the bathroom.

He needed to get away from them, needed a moment to clear his head, a moment alone. He leaned his back against the wall, pulling his hands to cover his face. He couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't let the tears fall. But, internally he was screaming, his internal tears were pooling at his feet.

At some point he had slid down the wall, unsure of how much time had passed. He remained against the wall, behind the barely opened door.

"Dean?" Sam kept his voice silent and even, not wanting to startle his brother. "You okay?"

Dean just looked up at his brother, moving his hands from his face. He didn't say anything, he just struggled to get to his feet, pushing away his brother's hand that he offered for help. He was still in the bathroom, clearly lost in his own head. He made his way to his bed, remaining locked inside the place he had seemed to be stuck all day.

The days passed in a blur, Dean remained in one giant flashback, one giant hell that lasted for days. Before he had realized, the first week had gone by and he was sitting in the doctor's office.

The nurses kept wanting to close the door, something about privacy and all that mumble jumble that Dean didn't give two shits about. This was a small room, too small for comfort, with no windows, just the glow of the florescent lights above them. Dean sat nervously, his hands trembling.

"Hey there, Dean." The doctor walked into the room, he had barely placed his hand on the doorknob when Dean reacted.

"NO! Doc, please, don't close the door."

"Okay." The doctor nodded. "How you been doing?"

Dean just shrugged his shoulders. "The pain is better."

"Good, are you still experiencing pain?"

"Yeah, but not as bad, I guess, I don't really know, I'm sorry."

The doctor looked over at John for a clearer explanation of how Dean was doing.

"How's the depression and PTSD?" The doctor asked John.

"Not so good. He's been sleeping, a lot, the last few days. His head has been in a fog, he's been having a lot of flashbacks and nightmares."

"The medication not helping?"

"Honestly, the past few days, he's been too out of it to be taking his medication like he's supposed to."

"I see." The doctor said, concern in his voice.

"It hasn't just been about what happened recently." John added. "He's been living in a nightmare that includes all the crap that's ever happened in his life."

The doctor turned back to Dean. "Things you've never dealt with?"

Dean just shrugged. He, honestly, wasn't sure exactly what had been going on in his head.

"Having flashbacks?"

"Yeah some, I guess." Dean replied. "I don't really remember them when they get bad, I guess, I react badly, but I don't really remember too much when it gets that bad."

"Okay." The doctor replied. "Anything else?" He flashed his glances between John and Dean.

"He's had a lot of anger, when we can get him to interact with us." John added. "At first, he did good, talked his way through things, but lately, he's been shut into his own self, barely willing to leave his room, and doesn't talk much. His anxiety has been through the roof, I think his meds for that needs to be increased, at least for now. As far as pain goes, he still has his moments, but I think it's definitely better."

"Okay, I think I'm going to up the antianxiety and antidepressants. There's another medication I'm going to add that will help with the flashbacks that's for PTSD symptoms. And, you need to be taking your sleeping medication, it will help give your mind the break it needs. You look completely exhausted."

Dean just huffed. "All I've been doing is sleeping."

"Doesn't mean you've been resting. Your mind's been going nonstop, even when you're sleeping. If you're having nightmares, it means your mind is working overtime, which makes it difficult to be able to deal with everyday life. So, eventually, your mind will just shut down, and your body won't be far behind."

He was directing his words to Dean but making sure John was understanding what he was saying too. "When that happens, it'll look something like, you sleeping all day and not being able to concentrate or think clearly. Also, you won't be able to control your emotions because, well, you really won't be aware of what emotions you have because you're not able to function properly. Sounding familiar?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah, I guess."

John nodded and the doctor nodded back. Scribbling on his pad, handing John the new prescriptions.

"Dean." The doctor added. "You really need to take the medication as prescribed, right now, I don't care if you do anything else, but you need to take these, it will help you feel much better. And…"

He turned his attention to John. "If you think they need to be stronger, or are too strong, let me know, I'll adjust them accordingly."

He brought his attention back to Dean. "The goal right now, is to get you back to where you're able to think clearly and interact with others on a normal basis. I don't expect this to be a fix all. I don't expect you to be back to your normal self, these aren't miracle drugs. They are just a tool to help you over this hump that you're in. You're still going to have a lot of work to do in order to find yourself back to where you want to be."

Dean sat silently. He was ready to leave. Ready to stop talking, ready to enclose himself back in the comfort of his room, hiding himself in the darkness. He had zoned out. John and the doctor continued to talk, not missing the fact Dean was far from where his body was sitting.

John tapped Dean's shoulder, pulling him from the distance he had made between them. "You ready to go?"

"Yes sir." Dean replied as he made his way off the exam table he was seated on, he was more than ready to leave.

But, before going back to Bobby's, John insisted on stopping to get his new medication filled. Said something about him starting them immediately. Then, they stopped to eat. Dean just wished his dad would leave him alone. He said he was going to stay in the car while his dad got food, but John insisted he eat with him. Something about eating with the medicine.

Ugh. Why couldn't he seem to concentrate on the meaning of the words that were coming out of his dad's mouth. He couldn't even remember what he had said after he said it. He couldn't seem to get his mind to do anything but spin around itself.

He ate. He's sure he did. If not, his dad wouldn't have stopped nagging him, he also wouldn't have given him the pills he just took. What were they for again? It really didn't matter. He hadn't known exactly what he was taking for awhile now. He wasn't even sure if he ever completely knew what the hell he was taking, or not taking. He couldn't remember if he had even been taking his pills. Couldn't remember much of anything.

He felt lost, this must be what a zombie feels like. Zombies. Damn. He remembered the day he found out zombies were real. Not the way they are on tv, not some crazy brain eating mindless creature, no, they were much different than that. But, they were still real. And right now, Dean was pretty sure he was one of them. He was mindlessly shifting through the movements, but nothing was connected to his movements, no purpose, no thoughts. Just, empty, mindless movement.

He hated this feeling, more than anything else he's ever felt in his life, this was the worst. He wanted to be set free from this fog he seemed to find himself caught in. He was sure he spoke, from time to time. He felt his lips moving, felt the words scratch their way out of his throat, but he couldn't tell what the words were. He didn't know what he was saying, what he was talking about, what he was even doing.

He found, at some point, he was back into the comfort of his room, had he ever left? When did he get back? The last thing he remembers was being at the doctor's. He wasn't there anymore, wasn't out with his dad anymore. He was sure he was back at Bobby's. He was sure he was in his room, in his bed.

The door was wide open. That was good. His head was at the foot of the bed, right where he wanted it, he was wrapped in his covers, probably from a nightmare. A nightmare he didn't remember. That was a good thing, he doesn't like remembering them. Sam wasn't in his bed, in fact, his bed was made, he could tell he had been sleeping there, but he wasn't there now. Judging by the light that filtered in around the window covering, it was daytime. He wasn't sure what time, or what day.

He made his way out of his bed, his body ached. Not pain from the injuries he had, this was more like just aching bones and muscles. Like he had been laying in bed for days, weeks, months. He wasn't sure. He stretched, allowing his body some much needed free movement. He made his way to the bathroom to relieve himself, then made his way downstairs, toward the voices he was hearing.

"Dean!" Sam was shocked to see his brother coming downstairs on his own free will.

"Hey there, son, how you feeling?" John chimed in as Dean sat in the empty chair beside the couch his brother and dad were sitting on.

Dean shrugged. "Okay, I guess." He wiped his hands down his face, not really sure what he was feeling, but he did feel like he was able to talk without feeling like the words were being lost somewhere in the air around him.

The room fell quiet. No one seemed to know what to say at this point.

"When did we get back from the doctor's?" Dean asked, unsure of what time of day it was.

"Uh, Dean…" John sounded a bit confused himself. "We went to the doctor six days ago."

Dean raised his eyebrows quickly, sucking in a deep breath and again, rubbing his hand down his too scruffy face. "Six… where have I been?"

"In your room, mostly." Sam replied.

"For six days?"

"Yup, we've been pretty much force feeding you when you had to take your meds, and walking you back and forth from the bathroom. Dude, you've been like a zombie, haven't been doing anything on your own, except sleeping."

"I feel like I've been a zombie." Dean sighed.

"Well, good to have you back in the land of the living." John replied. "You need anything?"

"I… I don't think so." Dean replied in more of a form of a question than a statement.

Dean stood and walked outside, he always felt the most comfortable in the junkyard at Bobby's. The broken cars, in need of love and repair, always seemed to bring him peace. Now, that he was feeling more like himself for the first time since they had got to Bobby's, he escaped to the place that brought him the calming, safe effect he had been longing for.

"Dean-o! Good to see you out and about, how you feeling?" Bobby was sitting in a chair on his porch, looking out into the junkyard, nursing a beer that was dripping from the coldness mixing with the warmth in the air.

"Hey, Bobby." Dean replied, sitting on the steps that led into the car sanctuary Dean loved so much.

"How you feeling, kid?"

"Okay, I guess."

Bobby nodded. "Well, good to see you out of that room and walking on your own."

"Yeah." Dean huffed. "I don't really know what happened, don't really remember anything. I thought we had just gotten back from the doctor, but Dad told me its been almost a week."

"Yeah, it has been, you've been pretty much out of it, but according to your dad, the doctor told him it might take a week or two for you to come back around to the present."

Dean nodded, listening to what Bobby was saying, realizing he wasn't as crazy as he felt.

"You remember anything over the past week?" Bobby asked.

"No, not really. I mean. I have a lot of foggy memories, but I'm not sure what's real and what's from… idk... nightmares?"

"Yeah, kid, you had a lot of those. A lot of vocalizing your nightmares too."

Dean rolled his eyes at himself. "Great! Did I say anything I shouldn't have?"

"Well, depends who you're talking about listening. Of course, nothing you say ever surprises your brother, he's been hanging onto you his whole life. He knows you better than anyone else. But your daddy, he's still trying to figure you out, he's realizing he's missed out on a lot of your boys' lives, and doesn't know you as much as he thought he did."

"Yeah well, what does he expect? It's not exactly like he's been around all that much."

"Yeah, I know. But, go easy on the old man, I don't think he realized, until now, how much he was absent."

"How could he not realize?" Dean turned to look at Bobby for the first time, adjusting himself on the steps so he wasn't straining to make visual contact with him.

"How could you not realize you've been back from the doctor for a week?"

"That's different!"

"How?"

"Because, I had some crappy traumatic experience that caused me to be out of it… or something like that." Dean was trying his best to sound sarcastic, he's always thought doctors were over exaggerated when it came to the effects trauma could have on someone. But, now, he wasn't so sure. Maybe there was something to it after all?

"And your dad didn't?"

Dean looked at Bobby, confused.

"Your dad lost his wife, boy. That's what set him into this whole hunting stuff. That's been his drive for so many years. He watched the love of his life, the mother to his children, burn on the ceiling, destroying his entire life, taking away the family he tried so hard to build. If that ain't a traumatic experience, I don't know what is."

Dean shrugged, agreeing with what Bobby had said. He knew his dad had been through hell, trying his best. But, he never really looked at it that way. Partly, because he never saw any truth to the whole PTSD or traumatic crap. He had been through his own fair share of trauma through his life, and he was a stronger person because of it. Or, at least, that's what he had always told himself.

How could he be so wrong about all of this? Was he really a stronger, better person because of all the crap in his life? Or, was he really just crap himself? Without another word, Dean stood and walked into the junkyard. He surrounded himself with the wreckage of the vehicles, gone way too soon. Unloved and abandoned. Much like he had felt his entire life.

Abandoned. How could his dad not see that? How could he not see how much his son had hurt, how desperate he had been, desperate for the love and comfort only his dad could give. But, had Dean missed something too? Had his dad been carrying around pain that Dean hadn't seen? He knew his dad had suffered. He had always tried to see his dad's discomfort. He had tried so hard to put everyone else's discomfort on his own shoulders. He had tried to be the person everyone needed.

But, no one had ever been the person he needed. No one ever put his weight on their shoulders. But, how could he possibly expect them to? He had kept his walls built high, kept everyone shut out of his heart. He's the one who made the decisions to sacrifice what he had, how could he expect anyone to ever know what he was going through on the inside when he never let anyone in? Yeah, he had decided he really was full of crap. His own crappy thoughts. He was sure he had built himself on a big pile of crap.

Dean had leaned against one of the cars, allowing himself to slide down to the ground, sitting against the cool metal of brokenness. He was finally thinking clearly, and honestly, he didn't like it. In fact, he hated it. It was easier when he could just shove everything away, ignore it the way his dad had taught him, use all the built up hurt and anger on the monsters they hunted. Yeah. That was way better than this!

Why did he need to process any of this anyhow? What did it matter? It's not like his life is going to be magically perfect if he processed his thoughts and the crap that he was. He was going to go back into his life, and find more crap to build on top of the old crap. He would face more monsters and death and gore. He would find himself in another fight for his life, another battle with some vengeful spirit, another botched stitching job from werewolf claws. Another traumatic experience.

He felt confused by his thoughts, his mind spinning within itself. He was lost, in what he was supposed to be doing, what he was supposed to be thinking, what he was supposed to be feeling, how he was supposed to be acting. He didn't know anymore. How could he not know? He pushed himself off the ground and stumbled back into the house. He needed guidance right now, and he wasn't going to find it out there, by himself.

Maybe, just maybe, if he was looking for something different, if he was wanting to make his way through this pile of crap that was in front of him, the pile named 'Dean Winchester', he would need to look somewhere besides himself. He would need to try something new, something different.

He wasn't sure how to trust his dad, or Bobby, sure, Bobby had been like a father to him, but neither of them, especially his dad, have been reliable. But, then there was Sam. Sammy had always been there, almost always, with the exception of the few times he's run away, his latest being the years he spent at Stanford.

Maybe his brother wasn't what he needed. Maybe his dad or Bobby weren't either. But, how would he know without giving them a try? With new knowledge that Bobby had put into his head, he had decided, he needed to at least give his dad a chance. He had kept his word so far, he had stayed where his boys needed him the most. He had been open and listened freely to anything Dean had said.

Maybe they could connect over this trauma… crap! That's what it was, it was all crap. All crap that was no where close to being fair. No where close to being ideal, but had been presented to them. So, now, he needed to figure out what to do with it, how to move past this point, this point he was stuck in. This right here, he needed to somehow push past it, regain himself, somehow.


	15. Chapter 15

**CHAPTER 15**

Dean entered the home to find them sitting at the table for dinner.

"You hungry, boy." Bobby spoke as soon as he saw Dean enter through the door.

Dean paused and looked at the old man, and shook his head.

"It wasn't a question." Bobby replied to the boy's head shake.

"Yes sir." Dean replied as he made his way into the kitchen where the others were just sitting to eat.

Dean sat at the table. He wasn't feeling so well, not as well as he was earlier, when he woke. That was plain to see for everyone.

"You okay, boy?" Bobby asked.

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"How about you give me a verbal response?" Bobby added as a command.

Dean raised his head and looked at the man. "Fine, I'm fine." He said, irritation filling him.

"Dean." John spoke his name as a warning to watch his mouth. He knew Dean was dealing with so much, but it didn't give him a right to be disrespectful to a man who had treated him with so much dignity and respect.

Dean lowered his head, pushing the food around his plate with his fork. "Sorry." He muttered.

"It's alright, just watch that disrespectfulness." Bobby said in an understanding tone. "How about you eat that food instead of pushing it around."

"Yes sir." Dean replied as he forced a bite of food into his mouth.

The other men at the table remained silent. Sam was watching the interaction, his head lowered, eyes keeping watch, and shoveling food in his mouth absentminded.

Dean forced the food down, not that it wasn't good, he was just not in the mood to eat, hadn't actually ate on his own free will for a couple weeks.

He tried to get away with eating only half the food, but the look Bobby gave him told him he needed to finish it all. Once he had finished his entire plate, forcing down the food his body was so badly wanting to reject, he continued to sit, head hung low, hands trembling.

He was pulled from whatever shift his mind had been doing, with a pat on his shoulder. He looked up and saw his dad standing beside him, pills in his hand.

"Here, this will help you feel better."

Dean glanced at the pills then back at his dad. He held his hand out, letting the pills drop from John's hand to his own. He took them without question. Trusting completely in the man who gave them to him.

Another pat on his shoulder from his dad, he looked up. John tilted his head to the side, gesturing in the direction of the living room. "Come on." He said and Dean stood, following him into the room.

He was surprised that his dad didn't stop in the room, instead, he stepped outside, they sat beside each other on the steps of the porch.

"You okay?" John asked, concerned about his son's state of mind.

"Yes sir."

"Don't bullshit me, boy. How you really doing?"

"I… I don't know." Dean paused. "I… feel… weird."

"How so?"

"I don't know, I mean, I feel more like myself than I have. But, I feel… lost? I'm so confused. I don't know how I'm supposed to act right now."

"Act? Why would you need to act? You just need to be yourself."

"Yeah? And, who is that exactly?"

"I don't know, why don't you tell me, son."

Dean shrugged, he had been twisting a blade of grass in his fingers, he tossed it across the air in front of him, watching it fall to the ground. Much like he was feeling right now. Like he had just been released to fly through the air, allowed to crash to the ground, no instructions, no guidance, nothing telling him what he was supposed to do, so instead, he just crashed, laying there, on the ground, in the rocks, lost from the rest of grass.

"Can I ask you something?" John questioned.

Great, here it comes. Dean thought to himself. He wasn't ready to answer any questions, but figured, ready or not, it was something that needed to be done.

"What?" Dean questioned back. He wasn't going to tell his dad it was okay to ask him anything until he knew what he was wanting to ask.

"Have you ever had sexual relationships with other guys?"

As John was asking his question, Sam walked out the door unto the porch. Hearing what his dad was asking his brother, he sat beside Dean. Dean put his hand on Sam's knee, his way of telling his little brother not to leave. He was thankful his brother had walked out at that moment. This was the conversation he never wanted to have with his dad, he needed something to keep him grounded, a support that only Sam could give.

"As in… uh… someone having intercourse with me?" Dean asked, a bit nervous, his hand trembling on his brother's knee, his fingers lightly grabbing at the fabric of Sam's jeans.

"What other kind of sexual relations is there?" John questioned.

"Dad. Do I really need to tell you about the birds and the bees?" Dean responded, his voice still shaky with nervousness.

"No. I think I know the basics of that." John chuckled. "So, what kind of sexual relationships have you had?"

"Geez, Dad." Dean sounded embarrassed. "Do you really want to hear about every detail of every sexual encounter I've ever had?"

"Trust me, you don't want to hear about all of that." Sam quickly added.

John chuckled, slightly. "I don't mean your one nights with some girl you've picked up at the bar, I'm talking about with men."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Something I said while I was out of it?"

"Yeah, something like that." John replied.

"Well, I mean… nothing recent… just… you know… I mean… it's been years, Dad."

"Since?"

"What you asked about." Dean was not going to easily give his answer. He was struggling with this. Struggling with giving his dad the answer he was wanting.

"Dean, please, son."

Dean sighed, looking sheepishly at Sam, then down at the ground, away from both men. "Look, when… when we were younger… you didn't always leave enough money, or food. And, I couldn't exactly walk into a bar and hustle pool to get what we needed, so I did what I had to… okay?"

"Dean!" John sounded shocked.

"Look! Sam had to eat, I had to eat so I could take care of Sam. And, he was growing, so fast. He needed clothes and things for school. We were kids, and left alone for weeks at a time. I did what I had to, okay?" Dean was on the defense by now.

Sam placed his hand on top of Dean's calming his trembling.

"Dean. I'm… I'm sorry." John sighed. "How… how old where you when you did that?"

Dean shrugged. "Started when I was around 9."

"Started? How long did you pimp yourself out for!" Now, John was beginning to sound defensive. Like, he was being cornered, being blamed for his son's choices.

"It's not like I did it all the time, okay! Only when I really had to, and we weren't always in the right location either. What else was I supposed to do? I mean, it's not exactly like we had a dad to help take care of us!" Dean had started raising his voice, not quite a yell, but raised for sure.

John matched his raise in his voice. "What the hell did you do!"

"What I had to! okay! I did what the hell I had to in order to take care of YOUR responsibilities! Truck stops, those were the best, could easily walk away with a few hundred bucks in one night. Mostly, all I did was get on my knees for some sleazy sons of bitches, and gave out blow jobs. I was too young for anything else, until I got older."

"Older! What the hell Dean! How old were you when you stopped being a prostitute?"

"Right, good one there, Dad, thanks for making me feel so much better about myself!"

"Dean, how long did you make money like that?" Sam asked calmly. He didn't care about his dad's questions, he wanted to know for himself.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know, not completely sure, until I was 15 or 16. Once I got older, it was easier to go to bars and hustle other ways." Dean had lowered his voice to a calmer level and looked at his brother with apologetic eyes.

"When you got older, was there anything else you did with them?" Sam questioned, again, his voice remaining calm, keeping Dean and Dad calmer in the process.

"Yeah, I had sex with a few of them, it paid good, it wasn't like I could pass that up. Besides, if you close your eyes, you can imagine you're somewhere else, that they are someone else, and it isn't so bad." Dean had lowered his head, picking at the frays on his jeans. He had moved his hand from his brother, placing it in his own lap.

"Dean, do you realize how dangerous that was?" John was upset, that was clear in his tone. "What if one of those skanks would have raped you?"

Dean shrugged. "Then they would owe me extra money."

"Dean! This is serious!" John was not pleased with his answer.

"Look, it's in the past, okay, what the hell does it matter now? Besides it wasn't like it was the first time." Dean instantly shut his mouth. He was mentally kicking himself for that statement.

"What!" John was clearly shocked. "Boy, you better clarify what you mean!"

"Seriously, what does it matter? You didn't care back then, why even try to care now?"

"Back when, Dean? I've always cared."

"Then why did you send me and Sammy to live with someone else?"

And, this was it! This was one of John's biggest fears. He had thought he was doing right, what was best for his boys, but ended up screwing things up even worse. He didn't know how to stay around when his boys were hurting, and Dean was so good and hiding his hurt, it made it easy to ignore.

"The Morris', when you were, what, six?"

Dean nodded his head.

"Dean, I cared, I just have no idea exactly what the hell happened when you boys were there."

"You never asked." Dean said, quietly.

"You're right."

"You got mad at me, for calling you. That's the only reason you came back, because you were going to punish me for calling you, because you thought I was over reacting. That's what you told me. I remember, as you wrapped my broken arm, that's what you told me. But, you never asked, never cared enough to even stick around longer than the one night."

"I remember them." Sam said, almost sounding childish with his tone. "Well, kind of. I remember he was a really mean guy and scared me, and, no matter what I did wrong, Dean always took the blame, told me to keep my mouth shut and just hide in the room when he would get mad."

"Yeah." Dean sighed.

"So, what did happen there?" John asked, his stomach tying in knots.

Dean just shrugged. "Doesn't matter." Tears had started filling his eyes, he couldn't even look at his dad, or his brother.

"Yes, it does." John replied. He had lowered his voice, changed his tone back to that of a caring dad.

"Like Sam said… he was mean… I got punished a lot."

"How?"

"How what?"

"How did you get punished?"

"Belt, usually. Sometimes, he would punch me, or kick me, or throw me around. You know, just your basic crap. But, if he was extra mad, he would make me give him… you know… oral crap… okay! But, it's done, it's over now, no big deal."

"Dean, it is a big deal, you obviously haven't dealt with it, you can't hardly even talk about it."

"So?" Dean shrugged.

"Did he get… make you… uh… mad like, when he found out you had called me?"

Dean shook his head, not as a reply but to try to rid his head of the memories. "When he found out I had called you, he tried to… he tried to take everything further… but I guess I was too young… too small… or whatever… he couldn't do what he tried… so, he settled with… with the oral crap… like before… not that he was happy with that, but he didn't have much of a choice… I guess."

"God, Dean. I'm so sorry." John sighed with tears in his eyes.

Dean, again, shrugged. "Like I said, doesn't matter."

"Dean, why don't you think anything matters? Do you not think you matter?" John questioned.

Dean shook his head. "I don't." He almost sobbed out the words.

"Yes, yes you do. Dean, why would you think that?"

Dean looked up at his dad for the first time since the conversation had started. He was so lost, tears filled his eyes, threatening to drip from the rims, his face was red with some type of emotion, but John couldn't figure out which one. His expression showed sadness, his eyes were a mixture of different emotions. But, he stared at his dad, locking eye contact with him. It took him a minute to respond, he was wondering if his dad was serious, if, after everything they had talked about over the past month, he really couldn't understand why Dean didn't feel like he was worth anything. Why he didn't feel like he mattered.

"When have I ever mattered?" He finally answered his dad, his tone holding a slight hint on anger, mixed with sadness and childlike. "When has anyone, besides Sam, ever mattered to either of us?"

Dean raised his eyebrows, waiting for his dad to catch on, waiting for him to realize. John was the reason Dean felt worthless. He was trained to think that, by his dad's behavior. He had been taught through action, that unless Sam was in trouble or sick or hurt, he would just get in trouble if he bothered his dad. His needs, his health, it didn't matter. He was still expected to take care of his brother, like always.

"Dean, I never told you that you didn't matter." John tried to defend himself.

"You didn't have to say it." Dean replied, dropping his head back down.

"He's right, Dad." Sam said.

Both of them were shocked, neither expecting Sam to have any input on this. In fact, Dean was starting to wish Sam wasn't there, he was worrying that he would start blaming himself for the things he was saying.

"What?" John asked in response to Sam's statement.

"I've never, in my entire life, heard Dean ask for anything for himself. Even when we were younger. He would hold himself together. Sure, I didn't really notice things until I got older, but he would go without eating, just to make sure I had food, then when he would talk to you, he would always say things like, 'there's not enough food for Sammy' or 'Sammy needs something' it was never about what he wanted. Even though, of course, if you got more food or sent Bobby or someone to pick us up, it benefitted Dean too, but I don't think I've ever heard him say he needed anything for himself."

Dean kept his head lowered. What his brother was saying was the truth. He was actually always scared to ask for anything for himself. Sometimes, he would even say something was for Sammy, when it was really for him, because he knew his dad wouldn't care unless he thought his youngest son was benefitting from it.

"And," Sam continued. "When's the last time you stuck around when Dean was sick, or injured? I can remember you even came back from a hunt, early, that one time I got the flu. But, I've seen Dean suffer through so many injuries and sickness and never had anyone there for him. In fact, not only was he alone, but he still had to take care of me."

John sighed. "Dean, look at me, son."

Dean raised his head, following his dad's orders like he's always done.

"I'm sorry. I never meant to make you feel that way. Honest, I didn't. I guess I never really stopped to look at things. I mean, you were always so grown, so much older than your age, and I guess I took advantage of that. I'm sorry."

Dean gave a quick sideways turn of his lips, a way of telling his dad it was okay. The way he had always done. "It's okay." He said softly.

A moment of complete silence had passed until Dean spoke again.

"Dad, can I go upstairs now? I'm kind of exhausted."

"Yeah, sure." John said, slightly shocked that Dean had even asked permission to leave the conversation.

All three of them stood, John reached out and pulled Dean into a hug. "I'm sorry, you hear me, I know it won't change anything, but, I want you to know I'm truly sorry. For everything." John said quietly in his ear.

Dean didn't answer, he just nodded his head. A tear dripped down from Dean's eye as John reached up and wiped it away.

He gave his dad an innocent grin, one that said he wasn't sure what he was supposed to be feeling at that moment. John patted Dean on his back and released his hold on his son.

"I'm going to lay down with Dean." Sam told his dad after Dean had walked inside.

"Okay. Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure he's okay, will you?"

"Yeah, of course!"

"Thanks, and hey, Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"I'm sorry for being such a lousy dad."

"Yeah, well, you're trying to change that, right?"

"Yeah, yeah I am."

"Good, cause Dean really needs you to work on changing that. He needs you right now. You, not me or Bobby, you! And, if you mess this up, if you don't stick around and be here for him, then it's going to devastate him. He's starting to trust you, I mean, really trust you. He's starting to depend on you. And, you can't let him down, you can't break what you're building up."

John nodded. "I'll be here, I promise, until he's ready, I'm not going anywhere."

"Just make sure you remember that." Sam replied before walking inside to join his brother in their room.

By the time Sam had made his way to their room, Dean was already laying down, hidden by the covers, his head near the opened door. He was truly exhausted. His dad had given him his night time meds after dinner. A mixture of the medication and the emotionally draining conversation he just had, made his mind and body want to just shut down.

Sam walked into the room, opening his pills and taking them, sitting his bottle of water beside his bed. He removed his clothes and crawled under his own covers. He had started sleeping with his head at the foot of his bed, just like Dean did, that way, he could keep a better eye on him.

"You okay?" Sam asked, not completely sure Dean was even awake.

"Just tired." He mumbled.

"Yeah, that conversation even exhausted me."

"Yeah. And I already took my meds so, I'm pretty wiped out right now."

Sam nodded, even though he knew Dean couldn't see him. "Hey, Dean."

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"Thank you."

Dean turned on his side, facing his brother. "For what?"

"For taking care of me like you did. You didn't have to. I could have suffered the same way you did. I could have seen a lot more in my life than I did. But, you protected me, took care of me. Even if it was a crappy way of living, you still did it. So, thank you."

"You're welcome." That was all Dean could say to that. Besides, he was too exhausted to have another conversation like the one he had just had.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"It's all going to be okay, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, Sammy, I know, eventually, it will be."

"Night."

"Night, Sammy."


	16. Chapter 16

**CHAPTER 16**

Morning came and Dean pushed himself to function back in the real world. He had been gone, lost, for far too long.

"Morning sunshine!" Bobby piped up as soon as he saw Dean come down the stairs. His dad was sitting on the couch, his back to the stairs, he hadn't seen Dean emerge, hadn't heard his usual footsteps. It was like the kid was scared to make himself known.

The kid. John laughed to himself. He still saw his son as a kid, his kid. They both were, no matter how old they got they were still his kids. But, had Dean ever really been a kid? He was never given the chance. He was forced to grow into a man at such a young age. Forced to make decisions that no one, young or old, should ever have to make.

Both of his boys had always had a rough life, but, John had the illusion that he had done the best he could. That he was a good father, and took care of his boys. But, now he realized just how wrong he was. His oldest son had been abused, even if Dean didn't see it that way, it was still abuse.

Any freak who took advantage of a little boy was abusive in John's eyes. And, he still never got a straight answer as to exactly if Dean had sex with the men who paid him, in fact, Dean had made sure his answers weren't concrete. Sure, he knew there were times he wasn't perfect, times stress would get the best of him. He had hit his son too hard, in the name of punishment. Or, had pushed him to train a little too much. Times he had regretted after they happened.

" _Dean Winchester!" His father's voice rang out with a deep growl._

 _Dean and Sam were in the bed that they shared in the motel room their dad had rented a week ago. He had left them, strict orders not to open the door. It was winter break, so they didn't have any school for three weeks. There was no need for them to leave the room. John had left them with, what he thought, was enough food._

 _This time, it actually was enough, since he had returned three days early. He had finished his hunt earlier than expected. Which was fine with him, he didn't like the winter in the north. He would much rather be hunting somewhere in the south._

 _Even though they moved around a lot, he tried to teach the boys some of the same things they would have learned if they had a stable home. One of those things, was keeping the home clean. It didn't matter if it was a motel room, or some run down apartment. He expected his boys to keep themselves clean and the place they called home clean._

 _Usually, the boys were your typical kids, they would leave everything a mess and then power clean the day they expected their dad home. But, he was home early, and they hadn't even attempted to keep anything clean. Of course, everything was ultimately Dean's responsibility. He was the oldest. He was supposed to make sure his brother did as he was instructed, if not, he was responsible for making sure it was done, even if that meant doing it himself._

 _John had a long hunt, and was beyond exhausted. The only thing he wanted was to come home to his boys and sleep. He didn't care if he slept for the next 24 hours, as long as he got sleep. His emotions were on edge. The hunt was a hard one, emotional for those involved. John was upset, there had been a boy, about Sam's age, that was killed by the monster he hunted. It definitely wore on him._

 _When he had returned to the room and saw the place a mess, it set him off, pushed him from the edge. There were food wrappers everywhere, old, empty drink containers littered the tops of the dressers and John's bed. The boys had obviously wrestled at some point because the covers to John's bed were messed up._

 _Dean had startled awake at his dad's angry voice, grabbing the gun under his pillow, and stopping his movement as soon as he saw his dad. Sam had also startled awake, rolling himself off the side of the bed, so he was protected between the bed and the wall._

" _Dad?" A confused, sleepy, Dean questioned._

" _Yeah, it's me." He said, as he watched Sam crawl back on the bed. Damn, Dean must have taught him that movement to protect himself._

" _Wwwhat are you doing back so soon?"_

" _Got done early. And, by the looks of it, it's a good damn thing I did! This place is a mess, what the hell is wrong with you, boy?"_

 _Dean rubbed his eyes. "I was going to clean it before you got back." He followed with a yawn._

" _Yeah? That's your damn answer?" John yelled, startling both of the boys._

 _John grabbed his bottle of whiskey, taking a large swig, he already had a good buzz going on, but now, with this new anger, he needed to be drunk to be happy again._

 _Dean looked sheepishly at his dad, speechless. He really wasn't sure how to respond to him, his mind was still trying to wake up. Before he realized what had happened his dad's hand had struck the side of his face, hard enough to turn his body as it fell sideways, off the bed._

" _Get your ass up, NOW!" John growled._

" _Dad!" Sam shouted._

 _But, Dean remained quiet, didn't even reach up to rub the sting that was radiating through the side of his face. He just stood, and started picking up the trash. There was no way he was going to disobey his dad, not after that hard of a slap._

" _Have you ever obeyed my orders?" John shouted._

" _Yes sir." Dean replied quietly._

" _Oh, really? Because from where I'm sitting it sure as hell doesn't look like you have."_

" _He has!" Sam defended. "He always obeys your orders."_

" _Sam, I'd suggest you shut up and stay out of this!" John snapped._

" _Sam, quiet! Just go back to sleep." Dean added, Sam knew that meant he needed to close his eyes, cover his head, do whatever he needed to keep himself safe._

 _John started undressing, getting prepared to lay down his exhausted body. He took his belt off, stopped and looked at it, sitting back on the edge of the bed._

 _Dean startled when he heard the slide of his belt. A small flinch was all it took for John to see he had a way of punishing his boy, a way that would actually work. He forgot, sometimes, how much Dean was scared of being spanked. Honestly, with everything that boy had been through he wasn't sure why something as simple as a belt scared him, then again, he did only use it when he was extra upset, when his mind was too raveled to think, times like this._

 _He hadn't known about the time he was left in the care of someone else, at just six years old, and was beaten more than any one person should ever be beaten, by his belt. Dean didn't even have to do anything wrong, sometimes all it took was a wrong look and the man had his pants down, his body across the table or counter, anywhere that Dean could bend over and his legs couldn't reach the floor, and he would strike him with his belt until the boy's body was covered in a dark purple bruise, whelps split opened and bleeding. John didn't know the reason behind his son's fears, nor, at that point, did he care._

" _Dean, come here." John demanded in a monotone voice._

" _Yyyesss sir?" Dean stuttered as he sat the trash bag on the floor and stood in front of his dad. He stood there, shifting from foot to foot, his eyes locked on the belt in his dad's hands._

" _Bare ass, across my lap." He said, again in a smooth, monotoned voice._

 _Dean swallowed hard, his hands had started shaking but he done as his dad commanded._

 _He bit his lips, keeping his cries silent. Sam had curled himself under the covers and plugged his ears with his fingers. Even though Dean tried to stay as quiet as he could, he still let out small cries of pain when the belt struck his bare skin, he would sniffle and fight the tears, not allowing them to fall._

 _John didn't stop. No matter how much Dean wanted him to, he didn't stop. The sound of the belt smacking against his bare skin rang through his head. He didn't dare ask his dad to stop, if he was to try he knew he would release the flood of tears he had been holding onto. The stinging built on top of each other. Strike after strike, the blood red whelps rose higher and higher on his gentle skin. Some, had split open, releasing the blood that had been building inside them. Without warning, his body was pushed to the floor._

" _Finish getting this damn mess cleaned up!" John ordered, rubbing his face with his hands. "Then I expect a two-mile run."_

" _Yes sir." Dean replied. Without hesitation, he quickly pulled his pants back over his sore bottom and started cleaning the mess. He saw Sam's form under the covers, shaking, a clear sign he was crying. Dean didn't dare stop to talk to him. He didn't dare make his dad any madder._

 _After he had the room cleaned, he put on his shoes and coat, carrying the trash bag with him. He dropped it in the trash bin and started his run. It was early morning, the sun was just starting to rise, but it was still dark outside. The weather had to be below freezing in the darkness of the northern winter. It didn't take long for Dean's body to start shivering._

 _He was never so thankful that his dad wasn't around to watch him, as he had fallen several times during his run. A few of those times he did a complete face plant into the freshly fallen snow._

 _The snow seemed to shift and find it's way into Dean's shoes, causing his toes to go numb, which had made him stumble more times than he cared to admit. It took him longer than normal to run the miles. Usually, he was a fast runner, but in this cold, his body felt like it was freezing to the air, making it hard to move._

 _By the time Dean had returned, Sam was sitting on the floor between the bed and the wall. It was the place Dean had told him to go for safety. If Sam felt scared, he would crawl in the corner there, and cover himself with a blanket. The same way that he was now._

 _John was asleep, snoring with exhaustion. Dean quietly reentered the room. He was glad his dad was already asleep, he would never know it had taken Dean longer to run than it should have. He removed his shoes and coat, and hung his wet socks on the back of a chair, welcoming the warmth of the room._

 _He couldn't feel his fingers or his toes. His nose was running wild and his face burned from the bitter cold. His body shivered under the change of temperature. His lungs felt like they had started freezing to themselves. All he wanted was a warm shower, he needed to calm his aching muscles and calm his nerves. But, first, he had to make sure Sammy was okay._

 _He knelt in front of his brother._

" _Sammy?" he whispered._

 _Sam pulled the cover off his head. "Dean!" He remained extra quiet but was happy to see his brother._

" _Yeah." Dean said with a smile._

" _Are you done with your punishment?"_

 _Dean nodded his head. "I need to take a shower, okay?"_

 _Sam nodded._

" _You hungry?"_

 _Sam nodded._

" _Okay, come on, I'll fix you a bowl of cereal. You can eat it while I'm in the shower."_

 _Before taking care of is own needs, he made sure his brother had a bowl of cereal and glass of milk in front of him. They both knew not to turn the tv on. They knew not to wake their dad. So, Sam would have to do without his cartoons this morning. Usually, Dean would let his brother watch tv with breakfast._

" _When you get done, we'll lay back down, as long as Dad's still asleep, okay?"_

 _Sam nodded. "Are you tired?"_

" _Yeah, Sammy, I am."_

" _Okay, Dean, I'll lay back down when I'm done."_

 _Dean scuffed up his brother's hair and headed to the shower with clean, warm clothes._

 _Once Dean was finished, he joined his brother back in their bed. He was wearing a pair of sweatpants, they had a small hole in the knee, a t-shirt with a sweatshirt pulled on top of it, and dry socks, he was still shivering. The shower didn't help warm him up. He figured he just needed to curl under the covers for a few minutes._

 _He didn't even realize him and Sam had fallen asleep. Dean shivering, his brother curling up behind him, both, trying to give him warmth and for his own security from their dad._

 _Dean shuttered with a deep cough, groaning as he adjusted his aching body._

 _John remained asleep. He was too exhausted to let something as small as a cough wake him. Another few coughs and Dean shuttered himself awake, sitting up to allow his lungs to be able to gain the oxygen they needed. It felt hard to breath, like his lungs were swimming in a pool of water._

 _His body shook, he felt cold, too cold, then he would feel hot, too hot._

" _Dean, you okay?" Sam asked, concerned that his brother's struggles had woke him._

" _Yeah, tiger, I'm fine, just got a little cough."_

" _You're still shaking."_

" _I'm just cold, it was freezing out this morning, what do you expect?" Dean tried to make an excuse Sam would believe. It was followed by another cough._

 _John had woken with his boys talking. "You two gotta be so loud?"_

" _Sorry." Dean said as he dropped his head in shame._

" _Dean's sick." Sam simply stated._

" _No, I'm not!" Dean defended himself. "I'm fine."_

" _You're cold, and coughing, and your breath sounds funny."_

" _Shut up, Sammy, I said I'm fine." Dean spit out at him._

" _Your brother says he's fine, then he's fine." John broke off their disagreement, not wanting to listen to them any longer._

" _See!" Dean whispered to his brother. Then coughed again._

 _Dean stayed in bed, he didn't feel like moving. His whole body ached. Anytime he tried to take a deep breath he would have a coughing fit that left his lungs burning._

" _You okay, boy?" John asked Dean._

" _Yes sir." Dean said, instantly sitting up, trying to show his dad he could still be strong, even if he didn't feel it._

" _Okay, good."_

 _John sat in front of the newspapers he had gathered, looking for another hunt. He felt a need to escape. He didn't want to be with his boys. They started his return back by pissing him off with a messy room, and now they were whining about Dean not feeling good, even though the boy said he was fine._

 _A couple hours and few phone calls later and he was announcing that he had another hunt he had found._


	17. Chapter 17

**CHAPTER 17**

" _But, Dad! Dean's sick!" Sam whined._

" _Shut up, Sam, I'm fine."_

" _No, you're not, you feel hot and can't breathe without coughing."_

" _Take some Tylenol and stay inside, you'll be fine." John demanded as he packed his belongings._

" _Seriously, Dad! Dean's sick!" Sam may have only been 8 years old, but he had already started with his backtalking and rebellious stage._

 _John rolled his eyes. "Your brother will be fine, won't you?" He turned and looked at Dean._

" _Yes sir." Dean said, followed by a coughing fit._

" _I'll be back in a few days, week at most." John said as he walked out the door._

 _Dean sat, almost dumbfounded. His dad had just walked out the door, again. Dean felt like complete shit, even if he said he didn't it was clear to see he was lying, it also wasn't hard to miss how badly he sounded. And, even though he had left them enough food for the hunt he was on before, he hadn't left them any additional food, or money. And, he said he was going to be gone for a few days, a week at most. Which, in John term meant anywhere from 3 to 10 days._

" _Dean?"_

" _Yeah, Sammy?"_

" _I'm hungry."_

" _Okay, tiger, I'll get you something to eat." Dean coughed as he stood up and wrapped a cover around his shoulders._

" _You're sick." Sam stated._

" _Yeah, so?"_

" _Why didn't you tell Dad?"_

" _He wouldn't have listened anyhow."_

" _He helped me when I had the flu last year."_

" _Yeah, well that was you, only babies need their Dad to take care of them when they're sick."_

" _I'm not a baby!"_

" _Yeah, okay, whatever, Sammy."_

 _Dean laid back down after he gave Sam his food. Great, there wasn't much left. If Dean didn't eat, he could make it last 3 days, maybe, but, if Dad stayed gone any longer than that, he was going to need to figure something out._

" _Aren't you gonna eat?"_

" _Not hungry."_

" _You always say that."_

" _Yeah? Well, it's true."_

" _No, it's not. I hear your tummy making funny noises."_

" _I'm sick right now, Sam, I don't feel like eating, and I don't feel like arguing with you."_

 _Night time came, Sam kept complaining about being hungry. The kid must be going through another growth spurt. Great. That means there's no way the food would even last through tomorrow. He was going to need to do something, and the way he felt, he figured he would only feel worse in the morning. So, he needed to do something tonight._

" _Sammy, I need you to go to bed."_

" _But, Dad's not home, I want to stay up late."_

" _No, I need you to go to sleep. I've got some things I need to do, but I need you to go to sleep."_

" _Why? Where you going?"_

" _Nowhere, just out."_

" _Why can't I go with you?"_

" _Because… you can't… okay? Now, stop asking!"_

" _But, Dean, Dad will be mad if you leave me alone."_

" _Then don't tell him."_

" _Then take me with you."_

" _No."_

" _Why?"_

" _Because, it's too cold and you need your sleep."_

" _Fine!" Sam huffed. "How long are you going to be gone?"_

" _I don't know."_

" _Can I watch tv while you're gone?"_

" _No, I really need you to go to sleep, Sammy, please. I don't feel good, I don't feel like arguing with you on this. I just need to take care of what I need to do so I can hurry back, okay?"_

" _Whatever." Sam pouted as he crawled under his covers._

" _I'll be back as soon as I can." Dean assured him as he put his coat on and closed the door behind him._

 _Sam settled into bed and went to sleep._

 _Dean made his way to the nearby truck stop. He was hoping he only needed to be out this one night. Tomorrow he would feel worse, especially being out in the cold again tonight. He knew, if Sam was going through a growing spurt he was going to need new clothes soon too._

 _Dean tried to buy his brother clothes a size bigger, to give him time to grow into them, so he didn't have to worry about buying them as often. But, he was a growing boy, and no matter how much Dean planned, he knew his brother was still going to need new shoes and clothes, if not now, then eventually. So, when he had to pull out all his resources, do what needed to be done, he would do as much as he possibly could, get as much money as he could._

 _He found his first desperate trucker, receiving the money and dropping to his knees. Once the man was satisfied, Dean wiped his face and moved on to the next person he could find._

 _Before he realized it, he had men lining up to be next. That's the way Dean like it. He hated having to hunt for something he really didn't want to find, it was always easier if they came to him, and came to him they did. He even found some would pay extra just to be able to sit and watch him with other men._

 _He figured this is the way a prostitute would feel. He was thankful he wasn't as desperate as a prostitute. He just needed a little money, to hold them over till Dad got home and to buy Sammy some clothes. He wasn't desperate enough to stand on some street corner._

 _But, that was exactly what he was doing. Even if he didn't see it that way. There was no mistaking the boy was a young age, he may have looked a little older than 12, but he did not look close to being 18. They didn't care, as long as they got their money's worth, that's all that really mattered._

 _One of the truckers had sat down, situating himself in the perfect position, and he ran his hand down the boy's back, under his shirts. Pulling them up, he noticed the belt whelps on his back. He traced them down into the waist of his pants._

" _Damn, boy, looks like someone else got to you before I could." He laughed._

 _Dean felt his stomach tie in knots, trying a little harder to finish the job as fast as he could. He succeeded. He was thankful for that one. This man gave him the creeps. He didn't understand why, but he did._

 _Once Dean had made his way to the next, the man was still hanging around. He had unbuckled Dean's pants. Dean tensed up._

" _Shhhh, Shhhh, it's okay." The man cooed in his ear. Then rubbed Dean's bottom, under the pants, and without warning, or any prep, he forced a finger inside of him. Dean yelped, getting a slap from the man that was paying him, he had pulled his head away with the shock of what had happened._

 _He instantly went back to what he was doing. The man continued moving his finger around, inside of Dean._

" _That's going to cost extra!" Dean spit out in an angry huff and quickly went back the job at hand._

 _He felt so exhausted after he was finished. $400 in his pocket, and he was ready for bed. But, first, he stopped by a 24-hour mart, grabbing some food that would do for the next few days, including some items like chicken soup and Gatorade. He also managed to grab some cold medicine. And extra Tylenol for the fever._

 _He made his way back to their room, finding his brother sleeping in the bed. He tiptoed in, his body aching, his mind screaming, and he was shivering from the cold. He put the food away, and took a hot shower, hoping it would help warm him. He pulled on some new, dry clean clothes. His last pair of sweatpants, t-shirt, hoodie, and socks. He took a dose of medicine and crawled into bed with Sammy._

 _God, he hated himself when he had to do this. He felt… dirty. He felt like the lowest of the low. Like, he was worth absolutely nothing, well nothing but a good blowjob, that was all. He looked at the clock. 4:30 am. The sun would be up in a few short hours, Sammy would wake, wanting breakfast, and all Dean wanted was to sleep._

 _He sighed as he rolled over. He had gathered the extra blankets from his dad's bed and covered with those as well. He was shivering cold and sweating. He knew this was not good. He was sick, and alone, not only was he alone, but he had a little brother to take care of._

 _All he wanted to do was curl in a ball and die. Okay, not really die, but not face the world until he felt better. But, he knew that wouldn't be possible. He did leave some of the food he bought out for Sam to see. In a small way, he had hoped Sam would decide to fix his own cereal, turn his cartoons on, and let Dean sleep. He didn't really expect it to go that way, but the thought was nice._

 _He was restless, too restless. He was burning up, then freezing cold, then burning up again. He stayed in bed most of the day, only getting up to get Sam food, and use the bathroom, then he laid back down. Even if he wasn't asleep, he couldn't manage to function much, so laying down seemed to be the most logical thing to do. Evening came again, and he sent Sam to bed early. Told him he needed to finish what he had started last night. He told Sam he shouldn't have to go out anymore after tonight._

 _After Sammy had tried to get Dean to take him with him, or at least talk his brother into allowing him to stay up and watch tv till he got home, Dean had told him no to all of it, and made sure he was laying down to sleep before he left the room._

" _This is the last night." Dean whispered to himself as he walked through the bitter cold. "It's too damn cold to be out here, and as bad as I feel today, I'm going to feel even worse tomorrow, I probably wouldn't have the energy to do what's needed after tonight, so I gotta make tonight count."_

 _He made his way to the truck stop, making himself available to anyone who wanted it. Some wanted a little more, but he insisted he was still too young for that, wasn't big enough to give them the satisfaction they wanted, but he had learned to turn off his gag reflex years ago._

 _Some wanted to get handsy tonight. So, he made them pay extra, per finger, but no more than 2. He also charged for using his own fingers on them. He figured it was a business, and if they didn't like what he charged, then they could leave. But, no one seemed to complain. They weren't going to find a little boy, ready and willing, anywhere else, not like this. This kid was good, so good, in fact, some wanted a second round before leaving for the night._

 _Dean practically dragged himself into the motel room. It was 6:00 am. He was beyond exhausted and had been in the cold all night. This time, he came home with almost a thousand dollars! That would do them for a while, even buy the clothes Sam would soon need. There wasn't any need for Dean to go out again._

" _It's about time, where have you been?" Sam's voice sounded a mixture of concern and anger._

" _Out, I told you I had some things I needed to take care of." Dean mumbled. "When did you wake up?"_

" _Just a few minutes ago, and you weren't here! Did you stay out all night?"_

 _Dean coughed, it was an ugly sounding cough. "Yeah, guess I fell asleep in a warm place I found to curl up in for a few minutes." Dean tried to laugh it off, but he was feeling too tired to give it much effort._

 _He made his way to the counter, poured his brother a bowl of cereal and handed it to him. "Here, why don't you turn some tv on? Entertain yourself for a while?"_

 _Sam rolled his eyes but took the food. Dean went and showered, changing into a long sleeve flannel shirt that covered a t-shirt, and a pair of pajama bottoms that were a little too short. He didn't care._

" _Need to wash laundry today." He mumbled as he curled in bed. "First, warmth and sleep. Wake me in a couple hours, okay, Sammy?"_

" _Yeah." He replied, more interested in the show he was watching than what his brother had said._

 _Before he knew it, he was fast asleep, the sickness and lack of sleep, due to his money making, had his body running on empty. Plus, he hadn't eaten in almost 3 days, that for sure didn't help matters either._

 _Four hours later, his brother's laughter woke him. When he looked at the clock, he was both, thankful for the sleep and a little upset because his little brother didn't wake him. Dean groaned as he rolled his tired, sore, sick body out of bed. The groan was followed by a coughing fit._

" _Should have come home and got some sleep last night." Sam smarted off as he heard his brother struggling to force himself out of bed._

" _Shut up, smart ass, and help me get the laundry gathered. We don't have anything clean."_

 _Sam rolled his eyes but got up to help gather all the laundry._

" _You coming with me?"_

" _Why? You left me here alone all night, by myself. I don't think I need to go with you, I'm just fine here, without you!"_

 _Sam was clearly upset that he had woken without Dean by his side, but Dean didn't feel like arguing._

" _Fine, bitch, whatever. Make sure the door is locked and the salt line is fixed when I leave." Dean reminded him as he gathered the bag of clothes and made his way out the door. "I'll be back as soon as these are clean."_

" _Whatever!" Sam said in his sassy way, not really caring what his brother was saying, or doing._

 _Dean wished Sam would have come with him. He could have helped carry the laundry. It usually wasn't heavy, but today it seemed like it weighed a ton. Dean laughed at himself for thinking that and called himself a weakling._

 _He was sitting in the small laundry mat that shared a building with the truck stop. He was the only person in there. It was right before lunch time so everyone was either at work or home. All the truckers who had stopped for the night were back on the road, making their long drives to wherever they were going. Other truckers were making their way into the truck stop to fuel up and grab some food for lunch._

 _Dean sat, oblivious to the world around him. He was curled up in a corner chair, his coat wrapped tightly around his freezing body. Why didn't this place have any heat? He wondered. He heard the washer click off._

" _Finally!" he mumbled as he rose from the chair to put the laundry in the dryer._

 _Someone had walked in. He honestly didn't pay it any attention. He only knew because the bell above the door rang when it was opened. He should have known better. He should have paid attention. He's a hunter. He knows he's supposed to pay attention to everything, but he felt too sick to even care. He just wanted to hurry up and get the laundry done and make it back to his bed._

 _He put the clothes in the basket carts that were provided and moved toward the dryer. No sooner than he opened the dryer and placed his hands on the wet clothes, he heard a voice that chilled him to the bone._

" _Well, well, if it ain't the kid from last night." The voice chuckled._

 _Dean tried to ignore him. All the truckers were supposed to be gone. They never hung around more than just one night. He put an armful of laundry in the dryer, reaching for another._

" _Look, boys, this is the kid I was telling you about."_

 _Dean put the last arm full in the dryer, moving his eyes to see around him. From what he could see, there were four guys standing behind him. Dean swallowed hard, put the money in, and started the dryer. He didn't have a choice but to turn around, to move from his position._

" _Night's over, boys." Dean said as he turned and pressed his back to the dryers._

" _Oh, but a new day has come, which means a new night is on its way." The man chuckled. "Just figured we'd get started a little early."_

 _Dean shook his head. "Not going out tonight." He stated as he tried to move from his current position back to the chair he was curled in._

 _The man reached out and grabbed Dean's arm, tight. "I think I said, we're going to start early. I don't give a shit if you're going out tonight or not. You're out right now, and you're going to give us what we want, or we'll just take it." The man grinned an evil looking grin._

" _Fine! Double the price." Dean stood with his hands on his hips, determined he was going to make them pay if they wanted it at that moment._

" _How about we just take it then." The man had released Dean's arm but had him backed against the dryers, the other men had surrounded him as well._

 _Dean gulped. Fear started to rise in him. "Look guys, I just want to get these clothes washed and go, okay?"_

" _And, you will. The way I see it is you're going to be sitting here, waiting, anyhow, so why not have a little fun, huh?"_

 _Dean shook his head, he didn't know what to say. Didn't know what to do. He was surrounded by men who insisted they were going to get what they wanted, even if it was by force. He didn't have much of a choice._

" _What do you want?" He finally asked. "And like I said, the price is double."_

" _Okay, we'll pay double, but you're going to do whatever the hell we tell you to. Got it?"_

 _Dean gulped again. He figured he would be forced into whatever they had in mind, so, he might as well do it willingly, and get paid for it. He slowly nodded._

" _That's a good boy." The man said as he patted Dean on the cheek. "Now, get on your knees." He ordered._

 _Dean did as he was told, all men standing in a circle around him, waiting their turns. Dean had gone from one to another, then back again. He was exhausted, even before this took place. He didn't want to be here, didn't want to be doing this, but he was the one who had brought it on himself._

" _Pull your pants down." The man ordered. Dean stopped, fear in his eyes._

" _I… I don't do that… I've never…." Dean's eyes shot around the circle._

" _There's a first time for everything!" The man chuckled as he pulled Dean to a standing position by his shoulders._

 _Dean could feel his respiration rate increase. 'don't let them know you're scared. Don't let them know you're scared. Don't let them know you're scared' he repeated in his head over and over._

" _You ever get hard before?" One of the men asked as he grabbed Dean's crotch._

 _He just shrugged his shoulders._

' _Don't let them know you're scared. Don't let them know you're scared. Don't let them know you're scared.'_


	18. Chapter 18

_**CHAPTER 18**_

 _The truth was, physically, Dean was still a child, a child playing an adult's game._

 _The men laughed when they had no success in getting Dean aroused. They had even inserted three fingers and the tip of one of their penises into him, causing the boy to cry out in pain, but eventually gave up and had him finish his job the same way he started. His child size body proved to be too much trouble for them to care to fight with. Dean didn't realize how much more it would hurt if they had managed to go all the way inside of him, but he was sure what they had done was painful enough._

 _They tossed the boy to the floor after the last man was finished, and threw the bills on top of him, laughing as they left the building. Dean laid there a minute, realizing the room was completely silent. The dryer had turned off._

 _He quickly scrambled to his feet, collected the money the men had left. He didn't even know how much it was. It didn't matter. He just wanted to leave, go back to the safety of his room. But, he wasn't stupid either. There was no way he was going to walk away from the cash that was thrown at him._

 _He quickly threw the dry clothes into the bag and jogged back to their room. He was out of breath, having a coughing fit, when he entered the room._

" _About time!" Sam was still being a little brat. "I'm hungry!"_

" _There's food in there, why don't you go get you something if you're hungry?" Dean spat back, barely able to breath around the words._

" _You're supposed to do that!"_

" _Thought you said you could manage being here alone? That you didn't need me?"_

" _I lied." Sam said as he jumped from his seat and gave his big brother a tight hug. "Are you okay, Deanie?"_

" _Yeah, I'll be fine." Dean huffed out as he sat the bag down and made his way to get his little brother some food. He had made him a sandwich with a pile of chips and some juice._

" _I'm just not feeling too well." He said as he handed Sam his food and sat on the edge of his bed._

" _You should call Dad, he'll come back and take care of you."_

" _NO!" Dean shouted. "I told you, I'm not a baby!" He lowered his voice. "Besides, it'll go away eventually." He followed that up with another coughing fit. He felt like he wanted to vomit but knew there was nothing in his stomach to come up._

" _You eat?" Sam asked with a mouth full of food._

" _Not hungry, just wanna rest some more. I'll fold the clothes when I wake back up."_

 _Dean laid back in the bed. His whole body ached and screamed every time he moved. His coughing increased when he laid down, he had to settle with packing pillows behind his back and sleeping in a half-seated position._

" _Dean! Dean! Wake up! Please!" Sammy tried for what felt like the hundredth time to wake his brother, with no success._

" _Uncle Bobby?" Sam's little voice surprised Bobby when he answered the phone._

" _Sam? Is that you?"_

" _Yes sir."_

" _Everything okay?"_

" _I'm not sure. I tried to call Dad but he won't answer."_

" _Tell me, what's going on that's so important you needed to call your dad?"_

" _Dean's been sick, and now, I can't wake him up, I've been trying for a long time now."_

" _How long is a long time?"_

" _I don't know, since he came back from the laundry mat and made me a sandwich. I watched 2 shows then tried to wake him up to see if he could play with me. But, he won't wake up. And now, it's dark outside and I'm hungry. He won't wake up to get me supper."_

" _Sammy, it's 9:00 at night, you telling me your brother's been asleep since lunch and you can't wake him?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _Is he still breathing?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _Okay, tell me where you're at. I'll be on my way."_

 _Bobby headed out immediately. He knew, if Dean was sick and not waking up for around 9 hours, even after Sam had tried several times, then there was something wrong._

 _There was something wrong if a hunter, as good as Dean even at his young age, didn't wake up to movement or noise. There was something wrong if Sam called his dad while he was on a hunt. They both knew, unless someone was dead or dying, never interrupt Dad while he's on a hunt. It could cost him his life._

 _So, Bobby didn't hesitate to go check on the boys._

 _Once he arrived. He instantly checked on Dean. The kid was half sitting, half laying against some pillows that were stacked behind him. He was covered with every blanket in the room. His cheeks were rose red against his too pale skin. His hair was soaked with sweat. The ends sticking out everywhere, and plastered to the tips of his forehead._

 _His breathing was ragged and had a wheezing sound to it. His lips had a blue ting where he wasn't getting the oxygen his body needed. Bobby tried to shake him, to call his name. Dean didn't even respond. His skin felt like it was on fire. He laid in the middle of soaked sheets under all the covers. His clothes soaked through too._

 _Bobby started a bath of cold water, and fixed some food for Sam. He then called John, warning him if he didn't call him back he would be taking Dean to the hospital. He stressed the importance of him returning his call and the condition his oldest son was in._

 _Bobby carried Dean into the bathroom and undressed him. He was going to leave his boxers on, but noticed something that looked alarming, was that blood? He removed his boxers to find there was blood in them. Not a lot, but enough it had caught his eye._

" _What have you gotten yourself into?" Bobby mumbled to himself, but directing it at Dean._

 _He noticed the whelps from the belt the night his dad was home, they appeared to be a few days old and were healing. There were bruises that looked like the shape of hand prints on his shoulders and throat. Bobby just shook his head and laid Dean in the cold water._

 _He took a rag and wiped down the boy's hair and face, letting the cold water drip over the parts that were not submersed in water. He kept one arm under Dean's head, it was behind his neck, giving the kid support, and wrapped around to under his arm. The other arm worked at trying to wipe him down and get the fever to break._

 _After 30 minutes, Dean started mumbling, and attempted to cough, but it only came out as what sounded like a dog barking after drinking lots of water. His body shuttered and he curled in on himself. He couldn't figure out why he felt so cold._

 _Again, he tried to cough, but it didn't do much good. He reached up, not quite sure what was going on, and felt Bobby's arm. He knew something, or someone had a hold of him. Instantly, without warning, Dean's eyes flew open and he jumped his body away from Bobby. Fear filled his eyes as he curled into a ball, as far away as he could, which wasn't far considering he was in a tub._

" _Whoa, slow down there boy, it's just me, Bobby."_

" _Bbbbobby?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _Whhhat are you doing here?" Dean was sure one of the men from early had him again. If he knew it was Bobby there was no way he would have jumped away like he did._

" _Your brother was worried about you, couldn't get a hold of the old man, so he called me."_

 _Dean crinkled his forehead, not sure why Sam would have been worried._

" _How about we get you some clean, dry clothes on, now that you're awake."_

 _Dean nodded, not wanting to uncurl until Bobby was gone. It didn't matter that he had just held him in the tub, naked. Dean was awake now, and was more aware of himself than a boy his age should be._

 _Bobby fetched him some clothes, and handed him a towel. Sensing Dean's uneasiness, and remembering the blood he had seen, he walked out of the room for Dean to dry off and dress. He needed to make sure Sam was okay, anyhow. He was lying in bed, sleeping, exactly where Bobby had told the boy to go. It was almost midnight; the kid needed his sleep._

 _There was a small couch that sat near the tv. It was where Sam would sit and eat his food and watch cartoons. When Dean walked out of the bathroom, Bobby directed him to sit on the couch. He told him he wouldn't be sleeping in his bed, since it was soaked with sweat. Sam was in John's bed._

 _Dean's body ached. Every small movement made his bones scream. His head was pounding. He felt like he would vomit any second, but hadn't eaten anything so that wasn't going to happen. And, it didn't feel so good sitting down. He shifted, trying to make himself more comfortable, of course, it didn't happen without catching Bobby's eye._

" _You okay there?" He asked when Dean started trying to find a more comfortable seating position._

" _Yes sir, just aching." Dean replied, stilling himself. No matter if he was comfortable or not, he needed to stop moving around. Where he was at, at that very moment, was where he would stay. "Why was Sam worried about me?" He asked, ducking his head and setting his eyes on his hands that laid in his lap._

" _Because he couldn't wake you up."_

 _Dean shrugged. "I was tired."_

" _Don't give me that bull! You were still out of it when I got here, and according to Sam it's been damn near 12 hours! And it took you 30 minutes in a cold tub to even register that anything was different. I was about to take you to the hospital, with or without your daddy's knowledge, since that S.O.B. won't call me back."_

 _Dean grinned at that last part. It sounded exactly like their dad. "I'm sorry to worry you." Dean said. "But, I'm fine, just not feeling too well."_

" _Yeah well, something tells me it's more than just catching some cold."_

 _Dean shrugged._

" _Dean, what the hell you gotten yourself into?"_

" _Nothing! Honest, Bobby."_

 _Bobby gave him a 'don't bullshit me' look. "Then why was there blood in your boxers, and who the hell beat your ass?"_

 _Dean closed his eyes, he didn't know how to answer either of those. In a low, almost whisper he replied, "I… I disobeyed Dad, and he got pissed and used his belt."_

" _And the blood?"_

" _It's nothing, just a little misunderstanding."_

" _Look, boy, I've seen a lot of misunderstandings in my time, and ain't none of them ended with blood there."_

 _Dean just shrugged._

" _Do you need to get out of here?"_

 _Again, Dean shrugged, but lifted his head to look at Bobby. His eyes said yes, they almost pleaded with him to help him escape whatever he had found himself in the middle of. "I… I mean…." Dean lowered his head again, twisting his fingers around each other. "I'm not feeling so well, and it's hard for me to take care of Sammy, especially when I obviously can't seem to wake up."_

 _That excuse sounded as good as any._

 _Bobby nodded, patting Dean on his leg, and standing. "Lay down there and rest, you look like hell. I'll try to get ahold of your daddy again, if I can't I'll leave him a message, and a note for when he returns, I'll let him know I'm taking you boys home with me in the morning. You need someone to help with your brother while you get to feeling better."_

" _Thanks, Bobby." Dean said, almost ashamed that he wasn't able to do everything by himself._

 _Bobby had stepped outside. He must have gotten a hold of John because, Dean laid on the couch and listened to the loud voice outside the door. Bobby was clearly upset at someone, about something. Dad probably didn't want to bother with Bobby taking them home. Honestly, that was okay with Dean. They had enough food for Sammy and clean clothes, so he wouldn't need to go back out. He wouldn't need to be cornered by anyone else._

 _He jumped off the couch and ran to the toilet, dropped on his knees and dry heaved. Nothing came out but some stomach acid and the little he had been able to drink._

 _The thought of being cornered in the laundry room was enough to set his tumbling stomach over the edge. The thought of what they wanted to do to him. He didn't know what their exact plan was, but he had a pretty good idea, and the fact they left him hurting, and bleeding, was all he needed to realize the game in this town just became dangerous._

 _He needed to leave here, but if he couldn't, then he would stay in the room, make Sammy stay in the room too. Dean had seen too much, he knew the evil that lurked, both supernatural and from humans._

 _Bobby came back inside to find Dean leaning over the toilet._

" _You okay there, boy?"_

 _Dean dry heaved another time, sitting back and wiping his mouth he nodded his head yes, then reached up and flushed the toilet._

 _Bobby held his hand out, and Dean grabbed it with his shaky hand, allowing the man to help him stand. He stood at the sink and rinsed his mouth then stumbled back to the couch._

" _Dad won't let us go?" He asked Bobby._

 _Bobby sighed. "Said he won't be but another day, two at most. That you'll be fine till then, especially now that you're awake again. Said you just needed some sleep and it shouldn't happen again."_

 _Dean gave Bobby a half grin, he tried to tell him it would be okay, that he understood, but instead it told him that he expected that response and there was nothing either of them could do about it._

" _I told him I would stay here and watch out for you boys. Make sure Sammy is taken care of, until he gets back."_

" _You… you don't need to do that." Dean replied._

" _Oh, yes I do! You ain't in no shape to be taking care of that young one, besides, I know what a pistol he can be!"_

 _Dean just giggled at Bobby. Yes, that was one way of putting it. He was a pistol, that's for sure. A big, pain in the ass, annoying, pistol. But, Dean loved him, and would give his life for him if he needed to._

Bobby hadn't realized it, but now that the oldest Winchester had spoken to his friend about the truth his oldest son reviled, He realized he was there, that he should have known that something was wrong. There was blood in his boxers, for Christ sake. But, he was too concerned about Dean being sick to worry about it at the time.

He figured they would have plenty of opportunity to talk about it, but it never seemed to come up again, and Dean became better at covering his tracks.

He kept the life he lived a secret from everyone, even Sammy. Sure, Sam knew that his brother was out making money somehow. He really didn't care to ask how. And, as he got older, he figured the reason he left at night was to be with some girl. He never imagined his brother had been making money by selling himself for all those years. But, it also didn't surprise him any.

Dean was resourceful. He would always figure out a way to use anything around him to gain what he needed, including himself. If he needed money, and his body was the only thing available, it would be just like Dean to do exactly as he had done.

God, John just wished it was all still a secret, he couldn't handle the truth. But, now that it was out there, in the open, like a sword to his heart, there was no taking it back, no pretending like it wasn't real. He needed to figure out how to deal with it. He couldn't involve Dean, could he? I mean, the kid had already been through enough and had his own issues at the moment.

There was no way John was going to throw his own difficulties on top of Dean's. But, what if that's what Dean needed? What if he needed to see the human, the emotional, side of his dad? This was going to be another one of those fine lines they walked, another balancing act to make sure no one fell apart, to make sure there were no pieces to put back together once they reached the end.

John and Bobby had talked all night. He poured his heart and soul out to his friend. His son's words had shattered him, and he needed someone to talk to. There weren't many people that John could talk to. It was a tight knit circle that he kept. But, Bobby had always been there when John needed him. Hell, he'd always been there when his boys needed him. He was there far more than John ever was.

There were so many times when Bobby had tried to help his boys, tried to take care of them when John hadn't. But, John would get upset, his stupid pride would get in the way, and he would tell Bobby to fuck off. He would tell him they were his boys and he knew them best. He would tell him to leave them alone, that they were fine, they didn't need his help. When in all honesty, those boys needed every positive influence they could get in their lives. They needed as many people to care about them as they could get. They were alone in the world. No mom, their dad was absent most of the time, and there were only a couple more people they were even allowed to talk to.

They weren't exposed to the hunter's world. Not like some of the hunters were. They were kept as sheltered as possible. Sure, they knew about what was out there, but they didn't know much about the way other hunters were, and that's exactly how John wanted to keep it.

Sure, Bobby wasn't the best influence for the boys. He was the town drunk. But, when it came to those kids, he would sober up, and step up. He took full responsibility for them when they were in his care. He loved them, there was no doubt about that. He loved them like they were his own.

In fact, unknown to the boys, John and Bobby had talked when the boys were younger, and Bobby agreed, if anything were to happen to John, if he didn't make it back from a hunt, Bobby would take the boys in as his own. There was no one else he would trust his boys with like he did Bobby Singer.

Yes, the old man wore on John sometimes. There were times he would leave strict orders for Dean to train, and Bobby would ignore them and take him to throw a ball or play at the park instead. Bobby tried to keep the balance between hunter and kid, but John could never see Dean as a kid. Since the day he put Sammy's life in his hands he had stopped seeing him as a kid.

Which wasn't fair, he could see that now. Dean was only four years old and was forced to grow up, to become a responsible adult. Which, he did, and he did it without complaining. He took on the responsibility that was given to him with the utmost determination.


	19. Chapter 19

**CHAPTER 19**

Dean sighed as he sat in the chair across from his dad and the man he had always known as his uncle Bobby. He wiped his hands down his face.

"Where's your brother?" John asked.

"Still asleep." Dean replied.

John nodded. Dean felt the anxiety rise in him. He wasn't really the sharing type. He didn't like talking about feelings and all that girly stuff, but, he had something he was determined to say. He needed to make sure his dad was okay. He needed to make sure his dad understood. And, no matter what that took, he was going to do it, and, the fact Sam was still asleep, made it the best time.

Dean had developed a nervous habit over the past month. He would constantly have to move his fingers and hands when he got nervous. He would find something to tangle his hands in, something to wrap around his fingers, even if it was his own fingers, or the rim of his shirt. He noticed, as he was finding something to hold on to, something to give him that little extra comfort, that his hands were shaking.

He sucked in a deep breath of air. He couldn't back down now, this was for his dad, not for him.

"Dad… I… uh… I wanted to make sure… that you knew… that… uh… that I don't blame you for anything."

John looked at his son, a bit surprised but also confused.

"I.." Dean attempted to clarify himself. "I know you always did the best you could and… um… you always thought you were doing what was right… what was best for us… and you always thought what you were doing was the best you could. The thing is, I don't blame you for seeing things that way… if anything… it was my fault… I um… I always made sure things were taken care of… I didn't say anything to you, I mean you had enough on your plate already, so I just did what I had to and didn't bother you with it."

Dean had started out stuttering, unsure of exactly what to say, but had ended with speaking so fast his words were falling over themselves. Like he was in a hurry to get it out before he lost his nerves.

"Dean, it wasn't your place to make sure things were taken care of." John replied. "That should have been my responsibility. And, I'm sorry."

Dean crinkled his eyebrows in confusion and not completely agreeing with what his dad just said.

"I mean, you left me in charge, to take care of Sam. You expected me to take care of things, and that's what I did."

"Yeah, I expected too much out of you. I made you grow up way too fast."

Dean shrugged. "I managed."

"Not the way I would have wanted you to. I mean, come on, Dean, you sold yourself! You were in every sense of the word, a prostitute, rather you had sex with them or not, you had other sexual encounters, and got paid for it, so that made you a prostitute. That's something I would have never wanted for you. I still don't. The thought of it makes me sick."

Dean curled in on himself, his hands wrapped around his abdomen, his body bent over, his legs pulled up into the chair. "I make you sick?" He asked with such concern. He felt like his whole world had crumbled in on him. He needed to go. He needed to run, to hide. But, there was no where to go, not fast enough. Why couldn't he just disappear?

He tried. He tried to stand, tried to leave. He wanted this conversation to end. He wanted to make sure his dad was okay, that the information Dean had given him wasn't too much, but now… now, what he had done, how he had taken care of his brother, made his dad sick. He, Dean Winchester, made his dad sick.

John grabbed Dean's arm, stopping him from walking away. "Sit down." John commanded.

Dean did as he was told, not because he wanted to, but because he was trained to.

"Dean. I never said you made me sick. I said the thought of what you did makes me sick. That's not who you are, it's only what you thought you had to do. And, you may have been right. That may have been the only thing that you could have done. But, as your dad, I should have been more aware of your needs. And, I should have been there, for you to come to when you needed something."

Dean just shrugged. "I tried." He whispered.

"I know." John replied, he had moved from the couch and knelt on the floor in front of his son. Dean sat with his head lowered and his body frozen in place. John placed his hands on top of Dean's trembling hands. "And I'm sorry I never listened."

Dean just shrugged. Seemed to be one of the only responses he could give. What did it matter now? It was all in the past, there was nothing anyone could do about it, so why even bring it up? Dean just wanted to go to back to bed, to start the day over. Or, maybe just sleep the day away and try it again tomorrow?

"Dean, I'm sorry. I know I neglected you boys. I let my obsession, and my pride, get in the way of being a dad. I know, you didn't deserve the life you were given. And, you sure as hell didn't deserve a dad like me."

"Dad!"

"Dean, just listen, okay? I know I was negligent and I know there were times I let my temper get the best of me and I was abusive toward you. I know there were times I would punish you a little too hard, or make your training a little too tuff, or a lot too hard and too tuff. Especially for the ages you were. I know, and I regret, that I've hit you. I've right down beat you at times. And, I didn't even realize what I did, not until now. So, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Bobby's heart felt like it was on a rollercoaster. Part of him wanted to beat John down, his confession of hitting his own son, of beating him, brought the anger on. But, the fact John was admitting his wrong doings, and apologizing for them, was a step in the right direction. Dean wasn't the easiest person to get through to. He had a tough exterior. But, once you could get past that, he was as gentle as could be. He had a heart of gold and would do anything to help anyone.

"Ddd… dad… it wasn't your fault. I know I wasn't always the easiest kid, and let's face it, I have a temper that's probably worse than yours. But… I did need you, so many times I needed you, and you were never there. You were always hours away and wouldn't even answer your damn phone. I did what I had to. And, I'm sorry if I make you sick because of it. I'm sorry if you can't understand. But, there wasn't much I could do at a young age."

John tightened his grip on his son's hands, and let him talk without interruption.

"I just… I know the dangers… the things you say I could have run into… I've seen those dangers with my own eyes, I've lived a completely separate life from hunting, and I'm not saying I'm proud of it. Most of the time, while I was living that life, I was too young for them to do what they really wanted, too small, immature, whatever, so they settled with what they could get. As I got older, sure things changed. And that's why I changed professions. But, it honestly didn't matter, especially at the time. The only thing that mattered was Sammy."

John removed one of his hands to wipe the stray tears from his son's face.

"It's not like I actually enjoyed it, in fact, I hated it. But, I didn't really have a choice, I mean, it brought in the money I needed, and if I had a good enough night, I didn't have to go out all the time. I only needed one or two nights at a good place and we would be set for a while. I just needed to take care of Sam, and I was doing it alone, I didn't know what else to do!"

"I'm sorry." John said quietly.

"I even tried to get you to let us, or at least Sam, stay with uncle Bobby. There were times we tried, hell Bobby tried, to get you to let him take us back to his house, and you refused, every time. That… that would have saved me from doing what I had to. Bobby could have taken care of Sam's needs. But, you wouldn't let him."

Dean's knuckles had turned white from the force he was putting into squeezing his hands together. "And I get it, okay, I get it. Your mind was on the hunt. It was always on the hunt. You were tired when you got home and was spent from the physical and mental demands of hunting. I get it because I feel it too… but… I tried to be there, to understand. I just… it was hard. Okay?"

Dean had started having emotions rise in him. He tried to push them away. He wasn't even sure what they were, or why. It felt like anger, but he wasn't angry at his dad, he didn't blame him for anything. Maybe he was angry at himself or just the whole situation?

"You feeling angry right now?" John asked, like he could read his son's mind. He could hear it in his voice.

Dean shrugged. "Not at you."

"Then at what?"

"I don't know. Myself, maybe? I don't know. But, I don't blame you, I promise I don't."

John nodded. "I would feel pretty angry if I were you."

"Why?"

"Because, it's not fair. The things life brought your way, isn't fair. The fact your mother was killed by a demon, not fair. The fact your dad decided to get revenge and hunt the thing, not fair. The fact you had to take care of your brother, not fair. The fact that every time you think you're going to turn around and see the light at the end, but instead run into another wall, not fair. It's been hard on you, and that isn't fair, son. You are too innocent, too great for the life you have been given."

"I'm not innocent."

"But, you are! Don't you see it? Somehow, even with all the crap life has thrown at you, you've still managed to hold on to that little, four-year-old boy, the boy that loved everybody. The boy who had faith and trust in the world and the people around him. The boy who would do anything for anyone. The boy you were before you learned of the evils in the world. Dean, you sacrifice and you sacrifice, for this family, and for the people you save. And, the only thing you seem to get in return is another raw deal. And, no, it's not fair! It's beyond not fair!"

Dean shrugged. "I just… I'm who I was raised to be."

"No, Dean, you may be who you were raised to be on the outside, but, on the inside, deep inside, you are who you choose to be. I didn't raise you, hell, I didn't even raise Sammy. That was all you, you raised the both of you. The greatness, in both of you, that's all you, son."

Sammy had woken and made his way down the stairs to the room his family was in. He hadn't heard the entire conversation. He only heard his dad telling Dean how he had held onto the kid he once was, and how the greatness in them both was all Dean's doing.

Dean just shrugged, and turned to look at his brother. He had heard him wake up, had heard his footsteps come downstairs. No one else had heard it, but Dean did. Dean was trained to listen to his brother, to know every small move he made.

Sam gave a small grin to Dean, and John wiped the remaining tears from his son's face.

"I'm proud of you, son."

Dean locked eyes with his dad. He was shocked! He couldn't remember the last time his dad said he was proud of him, truly proud of him. He knew his dad meant what he was saying. After all of the conversations they had held over the past month, he knew his dad meant every word of everything he was saying.

"Thanks." Dean whispered. "What's for breakfast?" He directed his attention to Bobby.

Bobby just chuckled. "Haven't made it that far yet."

Dean nodded. "I'm going to go shower."

John patted Dean's hand one last time before removing himself from in front of his son. A small grin and nod from John was all Dean needed to know he understood Dean needed the conversation to be over. He wasn't sure how to handle his own emotions. He wasn't sure how to deal with compliments, especially when it came from his dad.

Dean was his own worst enemy. That was certain. He was harder on himself than anyone else ever was. Sure, he had his fair share of beatings in his life time, but no one, nothing, even the meanest monster out there, couldn't beat Dean down as much as he did himself.

In fact, there were times Dean right down hated himself. He couldn't even bare to look in the mirror. He couldn't understand why he had survived some of the things he had, what the purpose was. What was the point in him even being alive? There was no point, in fact the only thing he could seem to find purpose in was his little brother. When he was falling apart, not seeing any worth in himself or the life he lived, he would always hold tight to the fact the had to take care of Sammy. He had to stay alive for Sammy. Had to make money for Sammy. It was all for Sammy. He wasn't worth the effort it took to survive, unless he was doing it for his little brother.

When Sam left for college, Dean had never been prouder. His little brother was doing something with his life, he was going to become somebody. Or, at least try to become somebody. Dean always knew it would never work the way he wanted it to. You couldn't just escape the hunting world. Once you knew what was out there, there was no forgetting it.

But, Dean was still proud of the man his brother had become, but also felt alone, sure his dad was always around, but Dean had lost his purpose for living. He had lost his Sammy. He went through the motions, he needed to help his dad. There were still people to save, things to hunt. But, the drive behind his will was gone.

When his dad had disappeared, Dean wandered around lost, looking for him in the darkness that surrounded his soul. He had never felt so alone in his life. He had never felt so abandoned. Everyone he knew, everyone he loved, his family, his entire life, was just… gone.

And now… now they were here, they were back. He had started worrying when he received a bad voicemail from his dad. He went to Stanford and asked for Sam's help. He was there to pull him from the fire, again. The one that killed his girlfriend, the love of his life. And, together they had hunted for their dad, hunting anything they found that stood in their way.

They had made a great team, and they knew Dad was still around, he had sent them coordinates, even called them a time or two. But, now, he was physically here, Dean, Sam, John, and even Bobby. Their entire family, together in the same place, not hunting, but healing.

Healing from a lifetime of brokenness and abandonment. Healing from the hardships they should have faced together, the hardships that were caused by one another. The hardships that, in a normal family, would never exist. Sometimes, Dean wished they could be a normal family, leave all this crap behind them. But, that wasn't the life he was given. He knew… he knew this was as close to normal they would ever get.

Once Dean finished his shower he walked into his room, towel wrapped around his waist. He wasn't expecting Sam to be in there. He was laying on his bed, seemed to be half asleep and half awake. When Dean walked in, his movement had gotten Sam's attention. Sam turned and looked at his brother.

He was only wearing a towel around his waist. For the first time since their ordeal, his brother wasn't fully clothed in long sleeves and pants. Sam took a moment to take in the site as his brother searched through his bag to find clean clothes.

His back was covered in healing scars from being whipped, he still had some of the worst bruises that were present. They had faded into a yellow color, not black and blue anymore. He had a scar across his stomach where they had done surgery on him to repair the internal bleeding. His ankles and wrists still carried the fading scars from the ropes that held them tight.

He had cuts and burns that littered his body, they were healing but the scars and a few left-over scabs remained as a grim reminder. Only the worst of the worst still had some lingering scabs that hadn't completely healed. Everything else were healing scars. Scars that would eventually fade and become mostly unnoticeable.

Dean slipped on a pair of boxers before sitting on the edge of his bed. He paused, looking back at Sam for a moment before pulling on a t-shirt.

"Does it still hurt?" Sam asked.

"No, not really anymore. There's still times my body aches, but nothing particular, just muscle and bone aches. That, and, it still isn't completely pleasant when I use the bathroom, but I've gotten used to that, I guess."

Dean didn't move. He could tell his brother was dazed out, and needed the honest answers to his questions. As honest as Dean could give, that is. Dean still had a hard time facing some things, but he tried, especially for his brother.

Sam just nodded, not removing his eyes from his brother. "Dean?"

Dean slipped on a pair of sweatpants. He was thankful his dad and Bobby were mindful enough to wash laundry, because Dean hadn't even thought about it until he realized he would have run out of clean clothes if they weren't already washed.

"Yeah?"

Dean sat back on the edge of his bed, across from Sam, as he pulled the hoodie he had become far too comfortable in, over his head.

"I… I don't know…" Sam said with a sigh.

Dean put his socks on his feet then stood and made his way across the room, sitting beside his brother.

"Hey." Dean said with a calm, understanding tone. "It's okay, if you want to ask me something. I'm cool with it."

Sam just shrugged and seemed to mentally fold in on himself.

"Having a rough day?" Dean asked.

Sam nodded his head. "Yeah, I guess."

"Hey, it's okay. I have them too. I get it. Sometimes it's best to just be alone and let your mind do its thing."

"Yeah, but…" Sam paused.

"But… what?"

"I… I don't want to be alone."

"Okay, then I'll stay in here with you."

Sam seemed almost embarrassed by his need.

Dean pulled Sam across the bed, Sam didn't fight it, he just helped move himself. Dean had him lay down, and covered him with the blankets. Then, much to Sam's surprise, Dean laid on the bed beside Sam.


	20. Chapter 20

**CHAPTER 20**

Dean placed his hand on Sam's chest and started rubbing it gently.

"You know," Dean started speaking gently. "when you were little, and would have a rough day or be scared by a nightmare, I would make sure you were all tucked into bed and lay beside you. I would rub your chest to calm your fast heartbeats and when I breathed slowly, you would soon follow my lead and calm your breathing too. I often just laid and talked to you. Sometimes it would be about whatever was bothering you, but sometimes it would really be about nothing. The thing is, it didn't really matter what I said, as long as I used a calm, soothing voice, you would calm."

Dean smiled at the memory. "That always worked, even when you were a baby. If I knew you were fed and changed, I would lay you beside me and rub your chest and just talk until you fell asleep. You didn't like rocking much, not like it really mattered, since we usually didn't have anything to rock you in."

Dean paused for just a moment before he continued talking. "I guess it all started when you were little, and Dad would move us around everywhere. You were stuck in your car seat for hours, and when you got fussy, there wasn't much I could do. I could give you a bottle, and I could rub your chest and talk to you. You would always give me the biggest smiles and your face would light up so bright when you heard me start talking."

Dean grinned again. Man, he sure did miss that little baby, somedays. He missed the way things used to be. It was so simple when they were younger, and, Dad was still a dad.

"Even as you got older, when you would have really bad nightmares, I would be able to calm you down by rubbing your chest and talking to you. It didn't seem to matter your age, you still relished in the comfort and safety it brought."

"Dean."

"Yeah, Sammy?"

"I've always felt safe around you, that's one thing I missed when I left for college. I missed the security you gave me, I missed feeling so safe. I was out there, alone, no one to lean on, no one to go to when things seemed out of place and… well scary."

"Hey, little bro, I'll always be there for you, no matter what, all you had to do was ask."

"And look weak? Show Dad I couldn't handle it? No thank you!"

"Dad doesn't have to know everything, Sammy. In fact, up until now, Dad hasn't really known anything."

"Yeah, can I be honest?"

"Of course."

"I was a bit surprised you told him so much, I mean, sure, a lot of it I had kinda figured out on my own, over time. But to hear you just say it, and say it to Dad, was a bit shocking."

Dean shrugged. "Guess I figured I might as well try something new, I mean, if not, then life is just going to keep being the same crappy life its always been. Right?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"And, the way I look at it, if it doesn't work, then I'm still going to be in the same crappy life I've always had, so what's the difference?"

"Yeah!"

"Hey, Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared Dad's not going to be around much longer."

"I know what you mean, I mean, I'm surprised he's stuck around this long, and, I haven't even heard him say one thing about a hunt."

"Yeah, but… now that I'm feeling better, now that I'm healing, I don't know how much longer he's going to stay around."

"So, what makes you so scared? If he leaves?"

"I… I don't know… I guess because I've come to depend on him. I… Sam… I trust him… for the first time that I can remember… I actually trust him! And, I mean… he's usually always let me down. I could never count on him, but… right now… I have and I don't want to be let down. I don't know if I could handle that right now."

"Is that how you felt when I left?"

"I guess, maybe… it was different though, like… I was proud of you! I wanted to see you succeed, I wanted to see you become someone you wanted to be. I know how hard this life is, how hard it can be to look in the mirror and not like the person you see, and, Sammy, I don't want that for you. I've never wanted that for you."

"So… did you feel like I let you down?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"A little, but I think my pride in you was stronger than my disappointment. I mean, I managed, you know? Until Dad went missing. Then, I guess it was more of my own insecurities, my loneliness, my selfishness, that brought me back to you."

"I'm glad you did."

"Me too, Sammy, me too!"

The brothers fell quiet, Dean continued to rub circles on Sam's chest, keeping his breathing even and calm, noticing his brother's heartrate had slowed and his breathing was equally as calm.

Before either of them realized, the relaxation of the darkened silence had lulled them to sleep.

John was going to come check on the boys, they both seemed to be having a rough morning. He had made his way up the stairs once he heard the shower turn off, but he stopped on the outside of their door. It was still cracked open, and John leaned against the wall beside the door. He remained silent as he listened to his sons talk.

He felt a little bad, he didn't like eavesdropping, it was almost the same as breaking trust, but, the things he heard, he was glad he did. They had talked about their feelings, Dean addressed his fear in his dad leaving. He had admitted he had found comfort in the man that was always so far away. And, he smiled at the memories Dean shared with his little brother. Once the boys fell silent, John remained still a little longer, then made his way back down the stairs.

"They doing okay?" Bobby asked.

Neither of them had eaten breakfast that morning. Neither of them had taken any medication.

"They're sleeping, again, I think." John replied.

Bobby nodded. "They need to take their medications within the next couple hours, especially Dean, so we'll need to wake them, at least for that, but we'll leave them be for right now."

John nodded, he knew the drill and the boys' schedules. "We need to let them sleep for now. They are having a rough morning, and dealing with it, together."

Bobby nodded. "And, how are you doing?"

John sat down with a sigh. "About to lose my mind! I don't think I've ever sat in one place for so long. I should be out there hunting that thing, but instead I'm here. It isn't sitting too well with the hunter in me. But, honestly, I'm exhausted. I feel like the only thing I've been doing over the past month is worry. I've worried nonstop about both of my boys, and tried to keep any meltdowns or severe nightmares from happening."

"You know, you can't control what happens in their minds, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

"So, stop worrying yourself so much. Whatever happens will happen. And, I think they have both been handling things quite well. They are strong boys, and as long as they have each other, they'll be okay. They'll keep finding their strengths. But, John, you know you can't leave, no matter what the hunter in you says, you need to stay put, until those boys are ready for you to leave them."

"And, if that never happens?"

"Then, you be a dad. You take your boys with you, hunt together, or maybe, find a different path in your lives."

"I don't know if I can do that."

"If you're serious about being here for your boys then you just may need to figure out how. If you're not serious, I'd suggest you pack your bags while they're sleeping, because Dean, he's counting on you. He's leaning on you, expecting you to hold him up, and the longer you stick around without intention of carrying it through, the harder its going to be on him."

"Bobby, I have every intention on staying and helping him through this. I just, I don't know, I feel like I need a break, need to keep a part of me too."

"John, those two boys, upstairs, they are a part of you. The biggest part of you, and, when it comes to them, nothing else matters."

"Bobby…" John sighed and rubbed his hand down his exhausted face. "I think I need to leave for a few days, just a few days. There's some things I need to be keeping an eye on, and I can't do it from here."

"John! You're just going to up and leave your boys like that?"

"It would only be for two days, tops."

"And what the hell is Dean and Sam going to think about that?"

"They'll understand."

"Like they always have? Right? Because, yeah, that oldest boy of yours, he's always understood, just like the perfect soldier you trained him to be. You toughen up, say yes sir, and don't ask questions, don't disobey, and you sure as hell don't argue with the orders you've been given."

"That's not fair!"

"It is fair! How do you think HE feels? Huh? Damn it, John, you're such a hard headed idjit! I could just smack you sometimes! How about, for once, you stop worrying about yourself and what you need and you worry about those boys of yours."

"That's all I've been doing!"

"Yeah, for the past month, what about the decades you've missed out on? What about when they are both healed and ready to face the world again? Then what? You just going to abandon them again? Just like before?"

"It's dangerous!"

"No shit, John! Everything they do, everything you do, is dangerous, it's part of the game."

"Yeah, I know." John was spent, he was exhausted, beyond exhausted, his body and mind felt like just shutting down. "I think I'm going to follow the boys' example and go rest, I'm exhausted." John said as he stood and exited the room.

John was in no mood to argue at the moment, his anger and frustration was getting the best of him. He heard Bobby throw something across the room in frustration once his back was turned to the old man. As he stepped out of the doorway to the room they were in, and turned the corner, he ran, face to face, into his oldest son.

Dean had woken when he heard voices coming from downstairs. The men weren't yelling loud enough to wake them, but with Dean's sensitive hearing and strict training, they had seemed to wake him. He made his way down the stairs without being noticed, and had froze against the wall, beside the door, when he heard what they were talking about.

Dean listened, knowing it was too good to be true. Knowing his dad wouldn't stick around much longer. He was a fool for ever believing in him. He knew it, he knew not to let his guard down, not to let the walls fall, but he didn't listen to his own self, and… well… this is what he deserves for allowing himself to be so weak and vulnerable.

"Dean!" John half shouted in shock.

From inside the room, Bobby heard John and drew in a deep breath, raising from his seat, if Dean had heard their conversation he would for sure be in an emotional state. He couldn't leave John and Dean to duke it out alone.

Bobby walked from the room, seeing the older boy standing in front of his dad. Hurt plastered on his face, sadness in his eyes. His lips were drawn tightly again his teeth. He didn't say a word as his thoughts swirled in is head. He didn't say anything to John or Bobby.

Dean stood completely still for a minute, then turned and made his way upstairs, back to his room.

"Dean!" John shouted as he turned from him. "Dean, stop!" Dean paused for just a moment then continued on. "Dean, I'm sorry, just stop, okay? Let's talk about it."

Dean didn't give any sign he even acknowledged what his dad was saying. Once he made it to his room, he did the one thing that he had refused to do this entire time. He closed his door. He shut out his dad. He shut out the world. He no longer cared. The fear that had once been there, it didn't matter anymore. What did it matter if he lived or died if he was alone again.

He looked over at his sleeping brother. He had wished he never took him from college. He should have left him alone. He was happy. He was getting the life he always wanted. And, Dean should have left him that way. Instead, he was afraid of being alone. He was afraid he had lost his dad, and didn't want to lose Sammy too, but now. Now, it didn't seem to matter anymore.

Dean curled himself under his covers. He even covered his head. He was subjecting himself to the very thing that caused him so much fear. He had enclosed himself into a room, and surrounded himself by nothing but darkness and the confines of the blankets that surrounded him.

He could feel the anxiety build inside of him. His breathing started to become labored. He didn't mind it. It was better than what he was feeling. Or, maybe he wasn't feeling anything at all? Maybe he had just went numb. Feeling nothing but the anxiety he had created inside of himself. Perhaps it was better than feeling the numbness of his dad's words.

"Hey, Dean?"

Sam had woken at some point in the middle of the day, he noticed the door was closed and his brother had his head covered.

"Hmm?" Dean mumbled, not wanting to move, he was half asleep but woke immediately with his brother's voice.

"Did you close the door?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because I fucking wanted to!" Dean spit out the words as he pulled the covers off his head.

"Okay, sorry." Sam replied in confusion.

"Just, leave me alone." Dean mumbled as he started covering his head again.

Sam reached out and grabbed the covers before Dean could completely cover his head. "What the hell is your deal man!"

Dean couldn't tell him what he had heard their dad and Bobby talk about. He just couldn't. It was hard enough for him to hear it, he couldn't crush his brother, not like that. He would leave it to their dad to crush him. That's what he's always been best at anyhow.

"I said leave me the hell alone!" Dean yelled at his brother, yanking his covers out of his brother's hands.

"Dude!" Sam's voice level matched Dean's. "Whatever the hell crawled up your ass needs to go because I haven't done a damn thing to you! What the hell is your problem?"

"Nothing Sammy! Just… just go back to college or something, back to the apple pie life you wanted so badly… I'm done! I'll be gone by tonight."

Sam let out a sigh and sat on the edge of Dean's bed.

"Come on, Dean, what's going on with you?"

"I said leave me ALONE!"

"Fine! Whatever, jerk!" Sam stood and opened the door.

"Close the door behind you." Dean ordered as he heard his brother walk out the room.

With a loud slam, the door was once again closed. The echo of the click, telling Dean he was confined to a room, replacing the anger with fear that he refused to act upon. He just laid there, letting it build inside of him.

Sam huffed and stomped his way down the stairs.

"What the hell you up there slamming doors for?" Bobby questioned with frustration in his voice.

"Dean wanted the damn door closed, so I closed it!" Sam was still feeling angry over his brother's sudden attitude turn.

"Dean wanted the door closed?" John asked, concern in his voice.

"Yeah, I don't know what the hell his damn problem is, but he needs to chill the hell out!" Sam huffed as he dropped his body unto the couch and folded his arms across his chest.

John and Bobby looked at each other. John dropped his head to the floor. After Dean had overheard their conversation, and left, they continued to talk. John had made up his mind. He had things he needed to do, he would take two days, that's it, just two days, and take care of some things. He wasn't looking for a hunt, he only needed to check on some things with ole yellow eyes, the thing that had killed his wife, and Sam's girlfriend.

They knew Dean wouldn't like it, but for him to actually want the door closed, he was shutting out the world. He didn't care about the fear it brought, his feeling of abandonment overrode the feelings of fear.

"He'll be fine, just give him a little time." John sighed as he sat beside Sam.

"Yeah, well, he told me to go back to college. And, that he was done with… whatever he was talking about… and he'd be gone by tonight." Sam pouted.

"John, I think you need to talk to your boy." Bobby interrupted.

John just nodded.

Sam looked up, switching his glances between John and Bobby. "Did I miss something?"

"Look, Bobby and I were having a conversation earlier." John started. "I have some things I need to take care of, not a hunt, just some things with yellow eyes, and your brother overheard what we were saying. I'm only planning on being gone two days, at most, and like I said, it's not a hunt, just need to take care of some things. But, Dean didn't like what he heard. Obviously."

"Dad!" Sam wasn't happy with what his dad was saying either. "I told you, if you had plans on leaving you needed to do it weeks ago. Dean trusts you, do you know how many years it has taken for him to actually trust you? And, when's the last time he's actually ever talked to you, about anything? NEVER! And, you're just going to throw it all away? Well, thanks for nothing, JOHN! Now, I get to be the one to pick up all the pieces you're going to leave shattered, and hope I can put them back in the proper places. But, even if I can, he's still going to have cracks where he fell apart at." Sam stood, angry, not wanting to even look at his dad.

"Now, you just wait a minute there, boy." Bobby stood in front of Sam as he spoke. "You don't forget, I'm still here to help. And, your daddy says he'll only be gone for two days. You boys are grown men, I think you can handle two days without your pops."

"Yeah?" Sam was defending his and Dean's feelings toward this. "And, when's the last time he's actually done what he says? When's the last time he actually came back when he said he was going to? And, you expect us to just believe what he says? Like he's never lied to us, never let us down, before?"

"I'm right here." John said.

"Not for long, obviously! So why the hell should I be talking to you? You're not the one who needs to know what we're feeling! You're the one who's going to walk out the door and leave Bobby here with us. You're the one who is going to run away, like always, leaving me and Dean to fend for ourselves, to figure out life alone."

"That's not fair, I've been here, Sam. I've been here for both of you, through all of this. I figured you were both healed enough and getting along pretty damn good, I thought you could handle two days without me. I didn't realize you weren't old enough to handle things without me for a couple days. I didn't realize I needed to be right here, holding your hands through everything."

"You don't!" Dean said in a monotone voice.

All three men were shocked to see Dean had come from his room. He stood in the middle of the stairs, he had been walking down, his bag in hand.

"I've never needed you to hold my hand through anything, not since I was four." Dean continued as he made his way down the stairs and toward the front door. "I've never been a kid, I've always been able to handle myself, no matter what. I've lived 22 years without you, and I don't need you now."

With that, Dean walked out the door.

"Dean!" John yelled at him, hurrying to follow him. "Dean, stop! That's an order!"

Dean paused, but didn't turn around. "I don't need your orders anymore either." And, he continued walking to his car.

He threw his bag in the back seat and made his way behind the steering wheel.

"Dean, where the hell do you think you're going?" John shouted at him.

Dean didn't answer, he just started up the engine. John had made his way to the car. Dean's window was halfway down and John spoke to him through the opened window.

"I asked you a question, where the hell are you going?"

"Does it matter?" Dean replied and shoved his gear shift into drive, not caring that his dad was standing at his window. Not caring that Sam was feeling so lost and confused as he watched his brother drive away.

The cloud of dust that followed Dean, soon faded in the air. All three men stood, lost and confused. Dean was upset, running on emotions that were empty and void. All he knew was he needed to leave, he had to be the one to leave, he couldn't handle it if his dad walked out on him, again. So, he had to make the first move.

He told Sam to go back to college, to leave him and the hunting world. He had meant it, he figured if he wasn't around to drag him down then Sam would return to the life he always wanted. Dad would return to hunting, and Bobby would go back to the life he had known.


	21. Chapter 21

**CHAPTER 21**

They had decided to give Dean a while to calm down, to get his mind back on straight, but when he didn't return by night fall they all started to worry. Loading up in John's truck, they drove the area, and the surrounding towns, looking for Dean, looking for the impala. They had even stopped and asked every gas station, every motel, every liquor store if they had seen him. With no luck, they headed back to Bobby's.

Dean was smarter than that. He knew the first places they would look would be the surrounding towns, he didn't stop in any of them. He continued to drive on pure emotions. Stopping only when he had the need for fuel. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't know what his plan was. He just knew he needed to go… somewhere.

Dean had made his purchase with cash, no paper trail to be followed. He filled the tank with fuel and bought 2 24 packs of beer, he then made his way to the local liquor store, purchasing as much liquor as he could afford. Then, hit the road again.

Cracking open a beer on the backroads he drowned his emotions with the buzz that had taken over. One pack of beer gone, the morning sun beaming down heavy, and a good feeling running through his veins. He continued to drive to wherever his Baby decided to take him. He opened a bottle of whiskey and drowned out his miserable existence with loud tunes and whiskey.

"Dad! We should be out there looking for Dean!" Sam was not happy that the morning had come and no one had gone to search for his brother.

"If he doesn't want to be found, then he's not going to be." John sighed. "And, since he turned his phone off and the GPS on it, and doesn't seem to be using credit cards, I'd say he doesn't want to be found right now."

"This is all your fault!" Sam yelled at his dad.

"I'm not saying it isn't." John sighed. He knew it was his fault, but Dean was hard headed and had his own way of reacting to things. "I'm sure he'll come back once he's cooled off."

"He's been gone all night; how long does it take to cool off?"

"The boy's right, you know." Bobby chimed in. "And, it's not exactly like Dean is reacting with a solid mind."

"I know that!" John sounded irritated. "But, just where the hell do you expect us to look if there's no trail of him?"

"I don't know, the boy is good at what he does, which includes disappearing." Bobby said as he sat in a chair.

"Exactly." John replied, knowing he had trained his son too well for his own good.

"So, we're just going to sit here, on our asses, while he's out there, who knows where, with a screwed-up head?" Sam was beyond irritated at the whole situation.

"What else do you have in mind?" John questioned.

"I don't know." Sam sighed. "I… I just want my brother back, I want to know he's okay. Dad, you didn't hear him yesterday. He was broken, he told me to go back to the life I wanted, back to college and that he would be gone by the night. And, well, I don't know exactly how he meant that. Yeah, sure he left, but I don't know what his intentions are, and that scares the hell out of me."

"Your brother has enough wits about him to not go somewhere and off himself, he still has you in his head, and I don't think he could ever do that to you." John said, sympathetically.

"Let's hope not." Sam replied as the tears that had been building started to fall.

Bobby had been making phone calls all night, and all morning. He had found nothing. No one had even seen the impala, or Dean. And, there were no credit cards or paper trails to follow.

Day fell into night. Night moved into morning. Morning shifted to midday that found itself falling back into night. Morning, once again. The sun was shining bright, too bright for the mood the men had found themselves in.

It was like, the sun didn't even care that Dean had been missing for 4 days. It didn't care that they were feeling scared and lost. It just continued to shine its brightness into the world.

" _You're going to do as I tell you to, is that understood?"_

 _Dean nodded his head, unable to speak._

 _The man before him just smiled a wicked grin. "Pull your pants down, I want bare ass."_

 _Dean did as he was told._

 _The man lifted Dean onto the counter top. It was a window, that separated the kitchen from the dining room, barely wide enough for Dean to reach across and grip the opposite edge as his body was bent over. His feet dangled in the air, his pants at his ankles. The man lifted his shirt so his bare back was being exposed too. He swung his belt, making Dean yelp with pain. Again, and again, and again, over and over. Dean muffled his cries as he pressed his face against the hardness of the counter top._

 _When the man's arm got tired of swinging the belt, he changed hands, striking him more, harder each time. The sting radiated from his lower back, across his butt, and down the backs of his legs. Each strike of the belt just intensified the stinging sensation._

 _It felt like hours had passed, if Dean was old enough to know time, it would have felt like hours, but, he was only six and a half an hour had felt like several. The man struck every exposed area over and over. Dean was sure he wouldn't be able to sit down for a month._

 _The man finally grabbed Dean's shoulders and threw his little body on the floor._

" _Get your ass to your room!" he shouted._

 _Dean scrambled to his feet, trying to tug his pants up as he rushed to the safety of his room. Closing the door behind him, Sam didn't waste anytime running up to Dean, wrapping his little arms around him._

" _I s'rry Dee." He said._

" _It's okay." Dean tried to comfort his little brother while he sniffled back his own tears._

" _I won't spill my juice 'gain." He pouted._

" _Don't worry about it, Sammy. It's okay."_

 _Dean hated this place, he hated the people who were supposed to be taking care of him, and he hated his dad for abandoning them, he hated him for leaving them with such mean people._

A sharp kick to Dean's side woke him from the nightmare that overtook his thoughts. He cracked his eyes opened. The dim light in the building was almost blinding. He looked around. He wasn't sure where he was at. He didn't know when he had stopped driving.

He realized he was… on a bed? Or… a mattress? In…. some type of a building… an abandoned warehouse of some type. There were other people around. Some of them on mattresses too. They were having sex, in front of everyone.

Dean reached up and grabbed his head, the pain that shot through his temples was enough to make him feel sick.

"Here, drink up!" A man kneeling beside him said as he handed him a bottle of… whiskey?

Dean gladly accepted it, he was so confused, he wasn't sure what was going on or where he was, but the whiskey would certainly help with the headache. He tried to give it back but the man laughed and pushed the bottle back against Dean's mouth, pushing it upwards to pour the liquid into his mouth.

"I said drink up." The man said as Dean was forced to swallow the whiskey down as it burned the back of his throat, settling heavy in his stomach.

Once it was empty the man took the bottle. "Wwwhere… am… I?" Dean stuttered out.

The man just turned and looked at him and walked away.

Dean wanted to get up but dropped his head back onto the mattress instead. He couldn't seem to think straight, couldn't seem to keep his eyes opened, to stay awake. He forced his eyes back open and with much protest from his head and body he pushed himself to a seated position. He looked around some more.

The place was dirty. It was beyond dirty. There were mattresses that surrounded the walls. They were filthy, like 100 people had already had sex on them, or at least that's what it looked like, and judging by the activity going on around him, he was probably right.

He realized, he was sitting on one of those mattresses. Oh god, he was sure he was going to get some infection just by being in this place. He needed to leave. He tried to force himself to stand up. Once he had almost pushed himself to a complete standing position, he felt a tug on his leg. Looking down, clearing his blurry vision, he saw a chain that had been wrapped around his ankle.

"Son of a bitch!" He mumbled as he fell back onto the mattress. His head was spinning, his vision blurred. Clothes… he wasn't wearing enough clothes. He honestly couldn't seem to figure out what was missing, he just knew something was missing. His head was in a fog, too foggy to think, too foggy to concentrate.

Someone was approaching him, maybe they would know where he was and what was going on? He was going to ask. He really was. But, he couldn't get the words to form in his mouth. He couldn't get the thoughts to connect in his brain.

The person who was approaching him had come close, too close. But, maybe he was close enough if Dean whispered his question the man could hear it. If it was a man. He was sure it was. He was heavy enough to be a man. Heavy, on his body.

When did his face get pushed into the mattress he was laying on? When had the weights been put on his back? When had the…. The pain? The pain… pain… something was hurting… but what? What was going on? He… he couldn't… couldn't think… couldn't hold his eyes opened… couldn't stay awake…

John's phone rang, an unknown number, he jumped to answer it. Usually, he wouldn't answer it, he would screen his calls, let them go to voicemail first. But, with his oldest son missing for so many days, he couldn't miss the possibility of it being him.

"Hello, this is John."

"John, this is Detective Smith from the Lawrence Police Department. I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if by chance you had a son who had went missing?"

John's heart stopped, he was sure it had skipped more than one beat, as he put the phone on speaker.

"Yes sir, his name is Dean."

"I see, is there any way you could meet with me?"

"I'm about a day's drive away, is my boy okay? We've been looking everywhere for him."

"Well, that's what I needed to talk to you about. I believe he's alive, yes, but we have a group that is… well, is in the hospital, and when I went through this phone, I dialed the number that was saved as 'dad'. I believe I know which man the phone belongs to, but can't be completely certain. Sir, if you could please come meet with me, I can discuss this further."

"Yes sir, I'll be there by morning."

John hung up the phone, his face appeared as heavy as his heart.

"Kansas?" Sam said with a gasp. "What the hell is he doing there?"

John shook his head. "I don't know, but by the sounds of it, he's found something to get himself into."

The three men packed their bags and headed out to meet with the detective. John was beyond nervous. He couldn't handle the thought of his son being in the hospital again, and if he was unable to tell the detective who he was then it was bad.

He knew Dean would keep his identity as secret as he could, but the detective said he had to search through his phone, and he wasn't completely sure who's phone it was. That meant Dean wasn't able to call them himself or identify his own phone. Oh, this was so not good!

Sam wouldn't stop with the questions. John knew he was just as worried about Dean as he was, but damn that kid could ask what color the sky was, then argue about how it's really not blue, it's a mix of yellow and green. John didn't have the energy for that, not right now. He had too much going through his head, too much to worry about.

Yes, John had messed up, again. He knew that. Sam had made sure that John knew that. He wouldn't let him forget. The men had worn thin on their patience with each other. They had spent countless hours doing nothing but worrying about Dean, searching for him, making call after call, and somehow, for some reason, Dean had ended up where it all started. He was back in his old hometown. The one place he was determined not to return.

Why? Why had he gone there? Why was he back where he didn't want to be? Was he feeling that lost? Maybe he was searching for something. His mom? Perhaps? Maybe he needed the comfort of a family he had lost. But, the family had been broken for so many years, there really wasn't any comfort to give. Or, at least, that's the way it felt most of the time.

John was thankful Bobby volunteered to drive. He couldn't even seem to keep his thoughts straight. He would not have been able to concentrate on the road. He wondered if Dean had felt the same way, if he just blindly drove to wherever he ended up at. Maybe, he didn't realize he was going back home? Maybe that's just where his car had taken him?

He needed to get to his son. He needed his questions answered, he needed to make sure he was okay, was alive. The way it had sounded over the phone, there may have been some people in this 'group' that weren't alive, and the detective wasn't completely sure that Dean wasn't one of them, so until he knew for sure, he wasn't going to give him any false sense of hope.

But, that's all the Winchesters had lived on for so long, a false sense of hope. A false sense of security. A false sense of safety. Was this really any different? Dean could have been attacked by a vampire or werewolf just as easily as he could have found himself captured again. There was no telling the dangers they put themselves in every day.

Maybe Dean was on a hunt? Maybe the 'group' wasn't a group, maybe it was a nest or a family of monsters, if so, had they turned Dean? Is that why he couldn't communicate with the detective?

John's head was aching. He had spent too many hours awake, worrying, and now this. Too many questions and no answers. No answers until they met with the detective. The thing is, John couldn't even just go to the hospital to see his son, because he wouldn't have been under any certain name. John doe probably, maybe even with a number after it, if there was a group of unidentified.

Sam had fallen asleep. His worrying and anxiety got the best of him. He couldn't manage to continue functioning. His mind had shut down and his body followed quickly behind. John wished his could do the same. This feeling… he had never felt anything worse. The uncertainty. The fact that Dean was just healing from a major ordeal, and now, he's in the hospital, again. With who knows what injuries.

John rubbed his hands down his tired face, looking at the darkness of the night from the window, he laid his head against the coolness of the glass, closing his eyes against the pressure that continued to build inside.

" _Boy, you need to learn how to grow the hell up! You are not a baby anymore. You're not a little kid! You're older and you should act older. Stop your damn crying, before I give you something to cry about! I don't give a shit what you think, get over it!"_

 _I never was a kid… I never was a kid… I never was a kid… I never was a kid… grown up too fast… sacrificed too much…. I did what I had to do… I never was a kid… I never was a kid… I never was a kid… never a kid… never a kid…_

John drew in a deep breath, startling himself from a sleep he didn't know he had fallen into. He pulled his head against the window, as if it had burned him, and sat straighter in his seat.

Bobby took his eyes off the road for a moment, glancing at John to make sure he was okay, then focused back on the road.

"We're about 2 hours out." Bobby informed him.

He sounded tired, exhausted was more like it, they were all exhausted. John looked in the back seat and Sam was still asleep. He rubbed his hands down his face, trying to clear his thoughts from the dream. He looked out the side window. The morning sun was starting to creep into the sky. The darkness was lifting, allowing the sun to beam its mocking warmth upon John's cold heart.

He just needed to make sure his son was okay. That's the only thing that mattered right now. Dean had to be okay. He was always okay. He was always okay.

"He's always okay." John whispered to himself, barely loud enough for Bobby to hear.

"Yeah, he is." Bobby agreed as he drove on toward the boy, their boy, who had been missing for so long.


	22. Chapter 22

**CHAPTER 22**

They arrived to the police station as soon as the morning was in full swing. They all hated police stations as much as they did hospitals, but sometimes they were necessary.

"May I help you?" A woman with long brown hair sat at the front desk. She looked friendly as she sipped on her morning coffee and greeted them with a smile.

"Uh, yeah, I'm here to meet with Detective Smith." John said, looking over his surroundings. He knew he looked a mess, his beard too scruffy, exhaustion filling his features.

"May I have a name, please?"

"John."

She smiled at the men. "Have a seat." She pointed toward some chairs against the wall across from her desk. "I'll let him know you're here. Can I get you gentlemen some coffee or water?"

"No thank you, we're good." John replied with a sigh as they made their way to the chairs.

It didn't take long before a young-looking man had stepped out of a nearby office. He was dressed in a three-piece suit and tie. His hair trimmed short. His face cleanly shaven. His shoes looked like they didn't go a day without being polished. John figured he couldn't be older than 30, right around Dean's age.

"Detective Smith." He said reaching out a hand for the men to shake.

"John." He replied as he shook the man's hand. "My other son, Sam." John gestured toward Sam. "And, my brother, Bobby." He then moved his hand toward Bobby.

The detective shook their hands and directed them towards his office. It was full of rewards and plaques. He had a picture of an older man, who looked a lot like him, and himself side by side, both dressed in their police uniforms. John figured he had followed in his father's footsteps, continued their own, personal, family business. There weren't any pictures of a wife or kids, indicating the young man lived a single life.

All four men sat, Smith was seated behind his desk, John and Bobby took the chairs directly in front of him and Sam sat in a chair that was against the back wall.

"John, may I ask what your last name is?"

John had already made sure they had the insurance card and IDs ready since they would be visiting the police station and hospital. He double checked to make sure the IDs matched background stories.

"Baller." John said. It was another crazy name Dean had come up with. He always liked to snicker when they used the last name.

"Well, Mr. Baller, how about we get right to it."

"Yeah, that would be great, thanks."

"Where's Dean?" Sam interrupted.

"Your brother is in the hospital right now." Smith informed Sam.

"When can we see him?" Sam questioned.

"Soon."

"I'm sorry." John said, shooting a glance at Sam then back at the detective. "My boys are very close and tend to worry about each other quite a bit."

"You know a lot about your brother?" Smith asked Sam.

"Yes sir."

Smith moved his glances between Sam and John. "Tell me, did he have a problem with drugs?"

"DRUGS!?" All three of the men questioned at the same time. They were clearly shocked at his question.

"No way!" Sam exclaimed as he moved his chair to sit beside his father. "Dean would never touch any drugs. Could barely get him to take anything prescribed to him."

"Look, detective, I don't know what the hell is going on here, and I know you have a job to do, but I'd suggest you not start off by accusing my son of anything that he would never do." John was on the defense.

Smith nodded his head. "My apologies, it's just… well… you see… your son, well everyone who was involved, had a lot of drugs in their system."

"I can guarantee you, if that boy had drugs in his system, it wasn't by choice." Bobby interjected. "Now, how about you take us to go see our boy? We can answer all your ridiculous questions at the hospital. Don't need no fancy office full of bullshit awards for that."

Bobby was always the no nonsense type, and right now, he didn't have the patience for anyone who was trying to show off and act all official. He wanted… they wanted… to make sure Dean was okay. Find out what his injuries were and what caused them. Then, they could answer the questions that followed.

That was always the hunter's way. They needed to see what they were dealing with first, make sure it wasn't anything supernatural. If it was, they had to make sure to have their stories straight. It was a balancing act they had performed, and perfected, for many years.

Smith nodded. "Okay, fine, do you happen to have a picture of him? To make sure I'm taking you to the right man?"

Bobby nodded and pulled out a photo that he had taken of him and Sam that he kept tucked in his wallet. Smith nodded, do you know where the hospital is?

"Yes." John replied, he couldn't tell him, his boys were born in that hospital, he knew it well. They were using an alas, since he didn't know what the cause of this was, he couldn't use the Winchester name.

"Meet me there." Smith said as he stood.

The men wasted no time making their way to the hospital. To say they were anxious to check on Dean was an understatement. Smith wasn't far behind and greeted them at the hospital entrance.

Before stepping into his room, he stopped the men. "He's unconscious right now, hasn't woken up since we got him. Which, is no surprise considering the amount of drugs and alcohol in his system."

"Move out of my way!" John insisted. This son of a bitch was standing between him and his son and he was not going to be held back from seeing him any longer.

Smith stepped out of the way and allowed the men to enter the room.

Dean laid in a hospital gown, he looked skinny and pale, like he hadn't eaten the entire time he was missing. His cheeks were sunken and his face littered with bruises. There were what appeared to be marks from a gag or hand that surrounded his mouth and streaked down the sides of his face. His eyes were covered with some type of bandage. He had marks surrounding his neck, they looked like a mixture of bruises from hands and rope marks that had rubbed through his skin leaving opened wounds. His short hair was a mess. His breathing was uneven, and hitched each time he took a breath.

There was oxygen tubing that ran to his nose, providing him with what his body needed to breathe. His right hand had an IV-line running through it giving him fluids and antibiotics. His right wrist was wrapped in bandage. His arm laid over his body and his hand fell against the upper part of his left arm. A pulse ox was on his finger, monitoring his heartrate and oxygen levels. His left arm was in a soft cast, positioned on a stack of pillows that laid beside him.

He was positioned on his left side, wedges and pillows were placed beside him keeping him on his side. There was a blood pressure cuff attached to his right bicep, and a heart monitor attached to the stickers they had placed on his chest. The machines delivered a low beeping that filled the silence of the room. His son's heartbeat echoing through the air. The rest of his body was hidden by the covers.

He didn't look like he was resting comfortably. He appeared to be restless. Pain crossed his face each time his breath hitched. His fingers twitched, along with his legs. There were moments that he would push his feet against the mattress, pushing against a feeling that ran through his body.

"What the hell happened to him? And, don't bullshit me!" John said, angry at the way his son looked.

"Mr. Baller, your son, Dean, was involved in a sting we had set up, it was human trafficking, are you familiar with what that means?"

"I have a pretty good idea."

"Okay, well, like I said, his system was full of alcohol and drugs. From the intel we have collected, they would mix liquor with drugs and make them drink it, chances are your son never knew what hit him. His blood alcohol level was 0.425. I'm not sure how familiar you are with those numbers, but that's high enough to kill someone. That, with the mixture of the amount of drugs, I'm surprised your son is even alive."

Smith paused to let his words sink in. He walked to Dean and lifted his broken arm, showing the inside of his elbow, where there were track marks from injections.

"The reason I asked you if he did drugs was because these track marks, it's more than just putting drugs in a drink. Which, if your son isn't involved in drugs, that means they probably had to give him injections as well, chances are it was to keep him under their control. If he's anything like you seem to be, I'd say he didn't submit and put up more of a fight than some of the others."

"He's worse than me when it comes to things like that. This boy is a fighter and isn't easily controlled. What's his other injuries?" John asked.

"He has a broken arm, but due to the wounds from restraints, they weren't able to put a cast on it, that's why its in a makeshift cast. The same as his right wrist, with the bandages. When we found him, his hands weren't restrained, but there was obvious evidence that they had been at several different times. His left ankle, had a metal cuff around it, attached to a chain, that was bolted to the ground. The cuff had cut through his skin there as well. He required some stitches to close up the gashes it caused. His eye lids had been stitched shut, not sure the reasoning behind that, perhaps because he put up too much of a fight? There doesn't seem to be any injury to his eyes, just the sores from the stitches, which is why his eyes are covered."

Another pause, allowing his words to sink in.

"He has 12 fractured ribs; his body is covered in bruises. The best we can gather he got one hell of a beating. Judging by the rest of the family," Smith glanced at the other men. "like you said, he's one hell of a fighter, and if I was a betting man I'd bet he had to be beaten into submission."

"Sounds about right." John stated.

Smith nodded. "He has some internal, and external, injuries from the sexual assaults that took place."

"He was raped?" John both questioned and corrected.

"Yes, he was, several times. Intel tells us that some of them, had as many as 15 men in one day, can't be certain if your son was one who had that many or not. The thing is, the other men, we could tell had been there longer, been subjected to the conditions more, because they didn't exactly have injuries from it, their bodies were already used to the abuse and had healed. But, Dean didn't fit in with the rest. He was new, we could tell by his appearance, he didn't exactly fit in with the others."

John nodded. He didn't know what to say. His son had just been broken, and now, here he laid, broken again. Possibly, completely shattered, this time. He wanted to embrace his son, to hold him, tell him he was there, that everything would be okay. That he would be okay. But, he couldn't, not yet. He had to hold his perception, allow the detective to finish what he had to say. He had to wait until they were alone.

"Your son went through one hell of an ordeal. Probably something that he didn't even know he got involved in. He was possibly offered a drink that had been tainted with drugs, and didn't have a chance. The thing is, when we located his car, the backseat was littered with empty beer cans and liquor bottles, so it's entirely possible he was already drunk when he stumbled upon them."

John nodded again, wiping his hand down his tired face. "Yeah, when he left, he was upset and needed to clear his head. We expected him back by evening but he never returned. We didn't expect him to end up here."

Smith nodded. "Well, he's going to have a hell of a lot more clearing of the head to do after this. The place they were in was a rundown, abandoned warehouse. The walls were lined with mattresses where they were all chained beside. The room that Dean was in, had a total of ten men. There were women too, but they were being held in different rooms. We managed to make 50 arrests and save 70 men and woman from trafficking. And, unfortunately, there were 10 that we were unable to save, from the way it looked they had been dead for around 24 hours. Some of them, longer than that."

Smith stopped to draw in a deep breath.

"There were a few corpses that had been there long enough they were decayed, but the ten we found, they weren't included in that. They were freshly passed away. The place is filthy and the smell would be enough to knock you out. But, I think we got to your son just in time, this could have gone a completely different way."

John sighed. Knowing his son was in a room with a deceased body wore hard on his heart. Dean would know. He's been around them enough he would know. He wondered if his son had watched the man die. If so, he wondered if Dean tried to stop it from happening, if he tried to save the man. It would be just like Dean to sacrifice himself for someone else, to put his own comforts aside to keep from someone else hurting.

"He looks like he's in pain." Sam observed.

The doctor had just made his way into the room to check his patient. "He is." He spoke up, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. "The problem is, with the drugs that are in his system, I can't give him anything for pain."

"So, he's just going to lay there and suffer?" Sam questioned.

"We're doing all we can, son."

"I'm not your son!"

"Sam! Calm down."

John interrupted his son's flaring temper. He knew how hard it was to watch Dean in pain while he slept, but he needed to find out everything he could. He didn't have plans on his son staying here long. In fact, he wasn't completely sure he was even going to allow his son to wake up there.

"So, what are you doing for him?" John questioned.

"First, we are giving him fluids, to flush the drugs and alcohol out of his system. And, antibiotics to take care of the infection that has set in. It's a pretty nasty infection that if left untreated could kill him. So, those are our main concerns. Fluids for dehydration and to rid his body of the drugs that are effecting him, and get the infection taken care of."

"Then?"

"Then we are going to need to give him medications that will keep him from going through withdrawals, they can be hard on an already injured body. If its bad enough, it can tear a person down, and judging by what your son has been through, he doesn't have much further down that he can go."

"You have no idea." John mumbled to himself.

He stepped closer to Dean, pulling a chair with him, he sat beside his oldest son, his youngest son stood beside his dad. John reach out and grabbed a hold of Dean's hand, he rubbed his thumb across the back of Dean's hand, over the IV catheter that was inserted.

Tears started to fill his eyes. He didn't know if any of them could go through this again, especially Dean. It seemed, just when things were going well, getting back to normal, that boy always hit another wall. This time, he wondered if Dean even had any hope that he would be saved, or if he just gave in to whatever happened to him.

Dean had left without wanting to return. He left with the idea that his family, his dad, was abandoning him. Dean couldn't handle that. Judging by the number of empty bottles in the impala, John was sure Dean was probably double the limit before he ever reached Kansas. Chances are, he didn't know where he was going or where he ended up.

Dean was a strong fighter, but, if he didn't have the desire to fight, he could let go just as easily.

"Hey." John whispered close to Dean's ear. "I need you to hang in there, Champ. We'll get through this, you just hang in there."

"Look." Smith spoke up. "I can tell there's no way your son would have ended up in that place willingly. I can tell you're a close family who supports each other. I don't think I have any more questions for you at the moment, I'll give you time alone with him."

"Willingly?" Bobby questioned. "Who would go into that willingly?"

"A lot of people." Smith answered. "Well, they don't exactly get into it knowing what they're getting into, but, they do become prostitutes, or the equivalent, and end up there. Usually because they become their drug dealers or offer them what they're looking for."

Bobby nodded, understanding what he was talking about.

"Thank you, detective." John replied, without removing his eyes from his son.

"I'll have some questions for him, once he's awake and able to talk." He replied back, before leaving the room.

"Like hell you will." John mumbled once they were alone.

"Dad!" Sam cried. "What the hell? We can't just let him stay in pain."

"The doctor's right, they have to get the drugs out of his system before they can give him anything else." John said in a low, monotone voice.

"I'm sorry, Dean." John turned his attention back to his oldest son. "I didn't mean for things to turn out like this. If I would have known, if you would have only stayed and talked to me, we could have worked it all out. You could have saved yourself from a lot of hurt. But, what's done is done, so I need you to hang in there, fight for me. Fight for Sammy." John had let a few stray tears release from his eyes.

Bobby put his hand on John's shoulder. "No one expected things to turn out like this."

John sniffed back his tears and nodded his head. "What do we do now?"

"The same thing we've been doing for the past month." Bobby replied.

Sam had moved himself to the corner of the room. He kept an eye on Dean, didn't want him out of his site, but also, couldn't seem to handle being so close to him. He couldn't handle the heartache and loss he was feeling.

Sam wondered if the detective was wrong, if Dean did purposely get himself involved in all of this. When he left, he told Sam to leave, to go back to college. He told him that he was done with everything, done with life, that he would be gone by that night, and he was. He didn't have any intent on returning to them. He wanted them to move on, to forget him. Dean was ready to give up. Dean never thought he was worth remembering anyhow, so why would this be any different?

Dean would need to make money, to survive, somehow. If nothing else, he would need some type of a bed to sleep in, or at least gas for his baby. And, he wouldn't go without his booze, that was for sure. He'd need money for that too, or perhaps he had found someone who would supply him with it. There was no limit to what Dean would do to provide himself with what he needed.

With the recent events, Sam figured Dean wouldn't even stop if a man wanted full intercourse with him, that line was already crossed by someone else, so Dean would be sure to use it if needed. Why did his big brother have to be so stupid? Sure, he could be smart too, but when he was desperate his smarts seemed to leave him. All common sense was gone in times like this. Right now, Sam wasn't sure if the anger he felt was hate toward his brother or the people who had done this to him.

Or, maybe it was both? Dean had walked out on him, he didn't intend on returning, and just expected everyone to go on with their lives. How could he be so damn selfish? And, now he's got himself in the middle of some more crap. Crap that's going to be even harder to get through than the last month had. Crap that's just going to wear down on everyone… again! This was not fair on any of them, and he was not going to sit around and watch his dad and Bobby fall apart over Dean's selfishness.

Sam stood quickly, and started making his way out of the room.

"You okay, there, kid?" Bobby asked.

Sam turned around and both men had their attention on him.

"Yeah, whatever. I'm gonna go find a nearby motel to crash at, I don't plan on spending all my time sitting around here, not this time! This is all on him!" Sam pointed at Dean as he finished talking, and walked out of the room.


	23. Chapter 23

**CHAPTER 23**

John stood to follow his son but Bobby held his hand on John's shoulder. "Let him go." He said. "He needs some time."

John nodded in agreement and drew his attention back to Dean.

"I can't believe our family has come down to this." John huffed, leaning back in his chair.

"It's not ideal, that's for sure." Bobby replied. "Let's just hope the boy was drugged up enough that he doesn't remember any of it."

"Yeah, since when have Winchesters ever had that kind of luck?" John sighed.

Sam had sent his dad a text with the location and room number to the motel he had found. But, John had no intention on leaving his oldest son. Bobby, on the other hand, told John he would try to talk to Sam, find out what's eating at him. Night fell and John stayed by Dean's side while Bobby made his way to the motel Sam had paid for.

" _You know, it didn't have to be this way, right?" The voice that surrounded Dean spoke, but he looked and couldn't see anyone. "All you had to do was be a good soldier and obey orders, and you wouldn't end up being punished."_

" _Dad? Bobby? Sam?" Dean questioned, but no one claimed the voice that spoke._

 _Everything was pitch black. He tried to open his eyes but couldn't. He tried to move, but was frozen in place. Pain, the pain that felt like fire lipping at his skin ran through his body. He couldn't breathe. Why couldn't he breathe? Why couldn't he see? All he wanted to do was open his eyes and see, but he couldn't it was like they were glued shut. Maybe it wasn't glue? Maybe it was something else? Didn't really matter. He just wanted to be able to open them._

 _He could hear noises, screams of pain, evil laughter. Hell. That was the only thing Dean could think. It sounded like hell. Was he dead? Had he finally found relief from the life he lived? But, this wasn't relief. It was where he always knew he would end up, he wasn't worthy of anything else. But, the pain, it was far from relief. Maybe he didn't want to die?_

 _He hadn't cared, he could remember that. He didn't care if he went out in a fiery crash, a good buzz and his baby was all he would need to be satisfied with the way he went. But, now, he wasn't so sure. He wanted his dad, wanted his brother, but, they were gone. He couldn't remember where they had gone, why they were gone, but he knew they were._

 _Fear filled him with the realization he was alone. He was in hell and was alone. He wouldn't expect anything else but to be alone. He didn't deserve to have anyone around him. He wasn't worthy of them. Wasn't worthy of love._

 _The pain. The pain wouldn't go away, if anything, it just increased. He couldn't figure out where it was coming from, his whole body shuttered with pain. It was too much, more than he could handle. He could feel… he didn't know, wasn't sure… hands? Whips? A belt? A rope, that's why he couldn't breathe, the rope was around his neck… too tight… or was it? He took a hitched breath. He could breathe again, but he still felt the rope tightened around his throat. He could feel his wrists bound, his ankle being sliced off, piece by piece. His body, torn. He looked around and saw pieces of his own body laying on the ground around him. They had been torn from him, releasing the pain that radiated through him._

 _The evil laughs, wouldn't stop. The taunting, the haunted images. The needle coming toward his eye, his body captivated by the shadows around him, bound to the coldness he was feeling._

With a deep, shuttered breath and a gasp, Dean sat his body straight up. The pain tearing at him. He reached up in panic and ripped the covering from his eyes. His breath, labored, panic raised inside his very being. The hell that surrounded him in the darkness seemed to remain in the light.

The laughter continued. The evil beings were grabbing him, forcing him to remain in the hell he wanted to escape. Screams filled his ears. He couldn't tell if the screams were coming from him or the evil beings. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he was fighting them. He knew he should just give in, it didn't matter anyhow. He was done for. He knew that there was no point in fighting.

"Dean! Dean! Calm down son!"

John tried to get Dean to calm down, he placed his hands on his shoulders to lay him back down. But, Dean just seemed to fight, the nurses came in, attempting to calm him from the hysterical moment he seemed to wake in. Nothing seemed to help, the more they tried, the more he fought. They injected him with medication to sedate him, it didn't seem to do the job well enough. Dean was yelling, he was screaming, he was crying. He was fighting, fighting to escape whatever was haunting his mind.

The nurses called the doctor and returned with restraints. They placed them around Dean's wrists and ankles. John tried to object, but they informed him it was for Dean's own safety. He would hurt himself if they didn't keep him restrained, especially since the medication didn't seem to be working like they had hoped.

Dean eventually stopped fighting. John figured he had worn himself out. He laid with his eyes closed, dry tears streaked down his face. With his eyes uncovered, John could see the holes where the needles were inserted through the skin on his eyes. His eyes were matted with puss from the infection that was running through his body. Scabs had started forming over the wounds where they had pulled the stitches from.

Dean was still breathing rapid, panic still evident. He would pull against the restraints, giving up once he felt the hold they had on him. Almost like he had forgotten, he would try again, only to give up again. His screams had stopped, turning into small whimpers of fear.

"Dean, it's okay, son, it's Dad, I'm right here."

John tried to sooth his son, to comfort him in his time of distress, but it seemed to be pointless. Dean didn't seem to register his dad was there. The nurses said something about the drugs still affecting his mind.

Once Dean seemed to give up the fight and fall asleep, John called Bobby to give him an update.

Bobby had made his way to the room Sam was staying in. Knocking on the door, he didn't expect anything less than to be greeted by a locked chain and gun behind the door. Sam let Bobby in.

At first, Bobby just observed the youngest Winchester, watching him fume about.

"What's gotten into you?" Bobby asked.

"Nothing. You come here to talk or sleep?" Sam replied.

"Both, and don't you go disrespecting me, boy."

"I'm not in the mood to talk, so you can forget that."

"Whatever." Bobby replied, making his way into the bathroom to shower.

Once he was finished, he returned to the room Sam was in. Sam was laying across his bed, propped up on his pillows, a sour look on his face.

"Okay, boy, spill it." Bobby ordered as he sat on the edge of his own bed, facing toward Sam.

"Bobby, just leave me alone, okay!"

"No can do."

"Why? Because Dean decided to be selfish and do something stupid? Now you're all worried about me? Well, you don't have to worry about me, I'm not as dumb as Dean is."

"Mmhhmm, why don't you tell me how you really feel." Bobby replied sarcastically.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"You walked out on your family, what makes you think your brother ain't got the same right?"

"I went to college! And, Dad's the one who told me not to come back, I had every intention of coming back. Dean didn't!"

"And, what the hell makes you think that?"

"He told me to go back to college, he said he was done with it all and was leaving. He had no intention on coming back, to be honest, I'm not even sure he didn't purposely get himself involved in whatever the hell he was in. I mean, it's not like he hasn't done the same shit before, and now that the line has been crossed, it wouldn't surprise me if he didn't do whatever the hell whoever wanted. I'm not even sure he didn't plan on not living through whatever his dumb ass got caught up in."

"You think your brother would put himself through all of that, on purpose? Hoping it would kill him? Is that what you're saying?"

Sam shrugged. "I wouldn't put it past him, that's all I'm saying."

Bobby shook his head. "Boy, you got one messed up way of thinking."

"Whatever, Bobby, you don't know Dean the way I do."

"I don't disagree with that. But, that's why you should know your brother wouldn't purposely do anything that would hurt you like that. He may not be happy, but that's never stopped him from pushing through for you."

Sam lowered his head. "Maybe that's not enough anymore?"

"I don't know, Sam, I couldn't see your brother choosing to leave you like that, especially in the condition he's in right now."

Sam shrugged. "I don't know what to think right now. I just… I don't know… I just feel pissed at him! You know? Like he should have used his head a little better, not been so damn selfish!"

"Boy." Bobby shook his head in frustration. "You've had times you've been selfish too."

"I've never ended up almost dead."

"No, because you've always had your brother watching your back. And, Dean's never had anyone."

Sam sighed and leaned back against his pillows, closing his eyes.

At that moment, the phone rang. "It's your dad." Bobby said as he answered it. Sam sat back up, listening to their conversation about the update on his brother.

"Is he going to be okay?" Sam asked once Bobby hung up the phone, voice full of concern.

"Depends how much support the kid is going to have. He's still pretty messed up, from the sounds of it."

Sam sighed, closing his eyes again.

"Get you some sleep, boy, you'll feel better in the morning." Bobby suggested.

Sam didn't say a word, he made his way under his covers and turned his light out, rolling his back toward Bobby.

 _Dean tried to fight. He tried to free himself, but the restraints were too tough. He knew, he knew what was coming next. Or, at least, he should know, but he couldn't get his mind to work, couldn't seem to remember._

 _Why was he sweating so much? He was freezing cold, did no one even care? He needed a drink. They seemed to help him feel better. He didn't know why, but the burn of the whiskey flowing down his throat and settling in his stomach seemed to be the magic he needed to make life go away. To take this hell away._

 _He fought to open his eyes again, but they were too heavy. He thought he saw something, or someone. Someone he wanted to see again. Someone he recognized. He didn't know who, but he looked familiar, familiar in a good way. And that voice. Why did it seem so calming? Yet, so far away? That voice, it shouldn't be here. He didn't know why, but he knew that voice belonged somewhere else._

 _He felt like he was sinking, falling, into an endless pit. He didn't know what was waiting for him at the bottom. But, it couldn't be good. Nothing is ever good, even if he thinks it will be, it always turns bad. That's the way anything he can seem to remember has ever been._

 _Not that he could really remember anything. It was more of a feeling he had, a knowledge, from somewhere else, a different life, perhaps. Why did he feel like he was falling? Weightless, like a feather floating in the air. Dizziness filling his head. A heaviness overflowing from his stomach._

Dean tried to sit up, his eyes flew opened, what little color was left in his face had drained, and vomit spewed everywhere. He couldn't move with the restraints, couldn't sit up, couldn't lay on his side. He swallowed some back down, inhaled some in his lungs with his sudden gasp, but most of it landed on his face and chest.

He continued to gag as the nurses rushed in to assist. Untying one hand they leaned him to the side so he wouldn't aspirate anymore than he already had. John was there, bucket in hand. Not that it mattered much, since Dean was already wearing his own vomit, but it was the jester that counted. He figured, Dean probably wouldn't even remember this once he was back asleep.

Dean continued to vomit and dry heave. He had reached up with his free hand and grasped the front of his dad's shirt. He wasn't sure who was surrounding him. He didn't know where he was or what was going on, but something about that simple act felt right, it felt safe, it was a security he had been searching for, for days.

John rubbed Dean's back, speaking calming words to his son as his body shivered and trembled under the sickness that overcame him. The pain raised in his body with every heave, with every attempt to vomit. His grip tightening with each new flash of pain.

Once Dean felt like he couldn't handle the pain any longer, he rolled onto his back. His eyes tightly closed, his jaw clenched, and a groan of pain that escaped from between his tightly closed lips. He didn't release the hold he had on John, it only tightened as he pulled his dad down as he turned onto his back. John was okay with it. He was there, whatever his son needed, he was there.

"Can you give him anything for pain yet?" John questioned, concerned that the pain would cause him more mental anguish than anything else.

"We have to wait for the doctor to make his rounds in the morning, see how well he's doing." The nurse replied. She felt sorry for him, she didn't like seeing anyone in so much pain.

"We're going to have to clean him up, would you like to stay or go?"

"I'll stay." John insisted, partly because, rather Dean was aware of his surroundings or not, he needed his dad close, he had a death grip on his shirt and refused to let go.

John helped the best he could, holding Dean still and rolling him so they could clean him off, put on a new gown, and change his bedding. He also had some bandages that managed to get dirty so they changed those as well.

John kept his composure, but his heart was screaming. He had seen his son naked before, that wasn't the issue. He had seen his son beaten and bruised, that wasn't a problem either. The thing was, Dean was so badly broken. His body appeared to be one large bruise. Darker ones surrounded the breaks of the ribs. Others were obvious fists and boot prints. His skin was stretched tight against his ribs. His son had been starving, and still wasn't able to eat. John wasn't sure if he had anything to eat or drink, besides alcohol laced with drugs, since he left Bobby's house several days ago. Dean's body looked fragile. Too fragile to be Dean. But, it was Dean, it was his oldest son, laying in front of him, laying on death's doorstep.

Dean hadn't completely fallen back into unconsciousness after he finished vomiting. He still remained slightly lucid. He wasn't sure why, but he wanted the person in front of him to stay close, wanted him to protect him from the hell he knew he was going back to.

Small whimpers and cries of pain escaped Dean's mouth as the nurses turned him and rubbed on his skin to clean it. There was no way he could fight them, no way to make them stop hurting him. He was used to it by now, used to the pain that seemed to have always been there. He was still unaware of where he was or what was happening to him. His mind started mixing different events through out his life together, it didn't make sense. The confusion was more than he could handle. He just wanted it to be over. Wanted to be able to think clearly.

"Sssss'mmmmyyyy." Dean mumbled out his brother's name. That was the only thing that seemed to make sense in his brain. His little brother. He needed him. Or, did he? Dean wasn't sure, but he was sure that he needed Sammy.

Once the nurses were finished, they positioned Dean on his side, propped up with pillows, in case the nausea came back. They were sure it would, his body was starting to detox. The room fell quiet again. Dean remained restless. His body fighting against the restraints that held him to the bed.

His mind turning circles in itself, wrapping around thoughts that only added to the confusion. The pain was becoming unbearable as he released small cries of pain and discomfort. His eyes remained heavy, too heavy to open, no matter how hard he tried.

But, the comfort. There was a comfort that was there. Something familiar. Something that was safe. Something that he wanted to grab onto and never let go. But, he wasn't sure what that something was that he was feeling. His mind drifted in and out of darkness.

" _Take it like a man."_

" _Told you this would be fun."_

" _I told you to be good, you need to be punished for disobeying."_

" _Boy! You better shut you mouth and stop that damn screaming before I give you something that'll really make you scream."_

" _You're going to give us what we want, rather you like it or not."_

" _Scream like the little bitch you are!"_

" _This is what you deserve. You're such a loser, you're not worth the air you breathe."_

Dean gasped and his eyes flew open. Closing almost immediately against the bright florescent lights of the room. Another night had passed and morning had just started breaking through. John was asleep in the chair beside his bed. Dean's sudden arousal startled his dad awake.

"Dean!" John exclaimed in shock as he placed his hand on his son's arm. "It's okay, son, I'm right here, it's going to be okay."

It wasn't the first time, or even the second, that Dean had woken up. John's reassurance that he was there and it would be okay was always the first thing he said, joined by a touch to his son's arm. This time, it appeared to be different. Dean didn't react the same. He didn't start having a panic attack and fighting against everything.

He slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the bright lights in the room. John left Dean's side long enough to turn the lights off, leaving the glow of the built-in night light and the security lights outside the window to light up the room, giving it a soft glow that mixed darkness and light.

"Better?" John asked when he returned to his son's side.

Dean nodded his head slowly, confusion evident on his face as his eyes scanned the room and the man in front of him.

"It's okay, I've got you, I'm here now, you're going to be okay." John reassured him, unsure of what else to say, unsure of where his son's mind was.

Dean tried to pull against the restraints, when he wasn't able to move his hands or legs, a panic started setting in.

"It's for your own good, I promise." John tried to reassure him. "It's for your safety, you've been fighting against everyone so much, and trying to pull out the IV line and catheter. It's only so you can't hurt yourself. No one is going to hurt you, you're safe now, son, I promise."

Dean looked at John, still confused. "Please." He pleaded.

John wasn't sure what he was pleading for, what he was wanting. "Please, what?"

"Please, let me go." He begged. "I… I won't… I'll be good… I won't fight anymore… please."

The tears that had built in John's eyes released at that moment. He was sure Dean had said those words while he was in the warehouse. He may have even said them during the ordeal with him and Sam, before this. Dean was begging not to be hurt worse. He would do exactly as he was supposed to, exactly as he was told, he just didn't want to be punished for his disobedience, for his will to fight and survive. He would stop fighting if only they would release the restraints and stop what ever punishment came along with them.

As Dean was pleading, a nurse had walked into the room. John looked up and gave her a pleading look of his own. He wasn't sure what to do, what to say. His heart was shattered, mixing with Dean's broken pieces.


	24. Chapter 24

**CHAPTER 24**

"Hey there, good to see you awake." The nurse said, in a cheerful tone as she entered the room and saw Dean wide eyed and taking in his surroundings.

It didn't settle very well with Dean, he tried to back away from the unknown woman, tried to escape the torture he was sure she was going to bring with her. There was something about the man who sat with him. Something he knew, something that was comforting. He tried to pull away from her, tried to bring himself closer to the comfort he felt, but the restraints kept him from going too far.

She pulled out a syringe, and started hooking it to his IV to give him some medication for the detox and withdrawals. Medicine that would hopefully ease the effects and allow his head to clear. Medicine that was far from doing its job at that point.

"No, please, don't." Dean begged with a cracked voice as he watched her put the drugs into his system.

"Honey," She tried to calm the frightened man. "this isn't going to hurt you, it's going to help you feel better. You're not there anymore. You're in a hospital. We're going to get you all fixed up and feeling better."

It was like he could see her lips moving, hear sounds that formed words come out, but they didn't make sense. None of them made sense. All he knew was that she had given him more drugs. Drugs that would make him feel funny and would only bring more pain. He whimpered when he wasn't able to stop her. He tried again to pull against the restraints without any luck.

The nurse directed her attention to John. "Doc should be making his rounds within the next couple hours. If he stays awake and stays calm he might order the restrains PRN. Which means they can come off unless they are needed again. The medicine I just gave him should start working soon, it will hopefully help keep him calm and help with his confusion and clear his head a little."

John thanked her as she left the room.

"Hey, Dean." John said, rubbing against the track marks on his son's arm. He wanted to tear apart the ones who had given his son so many drugs, but according to the detective, they were already under arrest.

Dean turned and looked at the voice that spoke to him, startled by the touch. It sounded familiar, but he still wasn't able to make out the meaning of the words he was saying.

Dean looked so young, so lost, so confused. His body was thin. Too thin. He needed to eat, needed to work on building his muscles back up. It had been far too long since Dean had a good day, one where he felt like himself. One where he ate properly and worked out.

John sat, with his head in his hands, thinking about his oldest son. He had been doing a lot of that lately. He wanted so badly to just scream at the earth and sky, to whoever would listen. Tell them this wasn't fair, that Dean deserved a break. He deserved a chance in life, a chance at being happy. A chance at safety. That whoever was in charge needed to make some changes. But, what was the point? No one would listen, no one ever listened.

The hours ticked by, to say John was exhausted would be an understatement. Dean drifted between sleep and awake, but didn't speak anymore. He laid perfectly still, he didn't try to fight or pull against the restraints. It was like he was waiting, maybe he was waiting for someone to come hurt him. Or, maybe if he moved then that's when the pain would come. Whatever it was, Dean laid still, with fear in his eyes, fear to move or draw any attention to himself.

The doctor came in, Dean's eyes followed him, but he didn't speak. The words, the sounds, that he spoke to the man beside him started having a little meaning, but Dean didn't understand why he was saying what he was saying. 'Drugs' 'healing' 'time' he understood those meanings, but what did they have to do with him?

The doctor then directed his speech to Dean. He tried to concentrate. He really did.

"Do you know where you are?" The doctor asked.

'You' that meant Dean, the person he was speaking to. 'Know' what was he supposed to know? 'Where' where was he? 'You know where' it didn't make sense, no matter how hard he tried. He frowned, crinkling his forehead while he tried to figure it out. 'Hospital' the woman earlier said something about that. He remembered.

Dean shrugged. "Mmmmay I… speak?" He asked, fear lacing his voice.

John closed his eyes against his son's question, willing it to not be real. The doctor just nodded his head, sadness had gripped his heart. Dean was asking permission to speak. That only meant one thing, he had been forced to do the same while he was enslaved. He probably wasn't allowed to speak at all, and chances are, Dean would have fought that until he was beaten into submission.

"Ttthhe… the woman…. Said… hospital?" It was more of a question than a statement, but he remembered her saying something about it.

The doctor nodded his head. Telling Dean, he was right. "Do you know why you are here?"

'You', again, he was talking to Dean, it meant him. 'Know', that word again. He wanted to know if he knew something. 'Why' why what? Why he was being punished? Why he was restrained? Why what? What did he want Dean to know why about?

"Iiii…. I was… I… bad?... Iiii… I won't… I'll stop." Dean started with following the question with another question and ended it with a plead to not be punished any further.

"I'm not going to hurt you." The doctor reassured him. "Dean, do you understand what I'm saying?"

Too much, too fast, Dean thought. He couldn't process. He looked at the doctor, unsure of what he had just said.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Understand?" The doctor repeated, then waited for Dean to process his words.

'I' that means the person speaking, the man in front of him. He shook his head as he said it, what was the next word? 'Not'? That would mean 'no' because the man had shaken his head no. 'Hurt' no, no, no, he did not want to be hurt again, please no.

But, the man had said no before he said hurt. Then there was 'you' again, meaning Dean. I, the man, not, means no, hurt, pain, you, Dean. There was no pain the man was bringing to Dean. Then he said 'understand?' Wanting to know if Dean understood the words he was saying. Not completely, but he had figured them out, so he nodded his head yes, letting the man know he understood he wasn't there to hurt him. Maybe that was someone else's job?

The doctor nodded again.

"Do you know who this is?" He said, pointing at John.

'You', again, Dean. This was getting easier the more he kept using the same words. 'Know', again Dean was supposed to know something. 'Who' the man had pointed at the other man, so he figured he wanted him to tell him who that man was. Dean should know who he was. He knew he should know, but, he didn't. He didn't understand why he didn't know.

It was frustrating him to not know. There was no way he could tell the man he didn't know. He would be punished if he didn't. Think, Dean, think, who is that? You know him, you know you do! THINK! Dean's confusion started feeling overwhelming. Panic was rising in him. He was trying, he really was, but now, he couldn't seem to think, he couldn't remember what he was supposed to know.

"It's okay." The doctor said calmly. "You don't have to know." He waited, hoping those words would sink in, but it didn't seem that Dean could even hear him anymore.

He sat in the chair beside John and placed a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder. "Breathe." The doctor instructed. "Breathe." He repeated, several times, until the meaning of the words he was saying filled Dean's mind and his breathing calmed.

Dean looked at the doctor then back at his dad. His face reflected an overwhelming confusion.

"I'm sorry." Dean whispered out.

"It's okay." The doctor replied in a calm voice.

"I… I don't understand." Dean added in a fear filled tone.

"You will, give it a little time." The doctor assured him. "You're getting better, it's just going to take some time."

Dean looked at him confused, then looked back at his dad, still confused. He wanted that man to stay, but didn't know why. He couldn't understand any of it.

"Hurts." He sighed out while looking at his dad.

"I know, son." John said, sympathy filled his voice, wishing there was something else they could do to help him.

"I'll order another blood draw, see how much is left in his system, see if we can work on giving him something for pain yet." The doctor stated, his voice full of regret. "It probably won't be until morning, unless we see a major change in him. I would like for him to at least understand the words people are saying before I feel comfortable giving him strong pain meds, but we might be able to do something to ease it up a bit, something not as strong."

John nodded, he would take anything at this point, anything to make him feel like they are at least doing something to help his son.

"Thank you." John said, feeling a bit of relief.

"You're we- "

"Dad?" Dean's question broke through the doctor's statement.

Both men turned and looked at Dean who was looking directly at John.

"Yeah, yeah, Dean, it's me, it's Dad." John almost cried out, rubbing his son's arm.

Dean still looked confused, and the confusion grew as he pulled on his arms, the restraints keeping him from moving them. As if, it was the first time he had noticed them.

"Dad?" Dean questioned again, this time not asking if that's who he was, but instead, asking what was going on, why he was being tied down.

"It's okay, son." John reassured him.

The doctor walked back, untying the restraints from the bed, but leaving them around Dean's wrists and ankles. "I'll let them know we're going to leave them undone for now, but if anything changes, they may need to use them again, so we're going to leave them in place for the time being."

John nodded, thankful for that.

Dean looked confused. "I… what's… where am I?"

"You're in the hospital." John answered.

"Why?"

"Because you got into some stuff you shouldn't have, and got hurt, so you're here to heal."

"I…" He looked at his dad then at the doctor. "I don't remember… I… I don't know what you're talking about, how did I get hurt?"

The doctor moved back toward Dean. "Do you remember anything that happened?"

"Happened? When?"

"The reason you're here."

Dean shook his head. "I don't know why I'm here."

"Do you remember being drugged?"

"DRUGGED?" Dean sounded shocked. Clear evidence that he didn't know what had happened to him, he didn't have a clue what he had gotten himself into.

"Yes." The doctor replied. "Between the drugs and alcohol in your system, I'm surprised you're still alive."

Dean looked at both, shocked and even more confused. He turned to his dad for answers, but he didn't have any.

"I'll let Detective know he's awake right now, maybe he can answer his questions a little better." The doctor stated.

John nodded, agreeing that would probably be best, and the doctor left the room.

"Dad?" Dean said in a quiet voice. "What the hell is going on?"

"You really don't remember anything?"

Dean shook his head. "This got something to do with the crap me and Sammy got into?"

John shook his head. "You mean, when you were captured by that sadistic bastard?"

Dean nodded.

"No, this is… this is far worse."

Dean's eyes widened. "Then, why don't I remember anything?"

"Because you were drugged."

Dean shook his head, not believing that someone would have been able to drug him enough to wipe out his memory. "Where's Sam?"

"Motel with Bobby."

"Can we just go?"

"Not yet."

"You mean, you're going to make me talk to a detective?"

"Yeah, I don't know what to tell you, son. He has all the information on what happened and all the answers you're looking for. At least let him explain to you what happened. Okay? Then we can discuss getting the hell out of here."

Dean nodded, resting his head back on his pillow, the pain had built up to an intolerable level. "Where is here?" Dean asked with a pain filled voice.

"Lawrence, Kansas."

Dean cracked an eye open. "Say what?"

John shrugged. "You're the one who ended up here, don't look at me, I didn't choose this place."

Dean was about to say something, confusion even more evident, when the detective entered the room.

"Hey, you must be Dean?" Detective Smith questioned as he walked into the room. "Doc said you were finally awake enough to talk."

Dean just shrugged. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to him. "I guess I am?"

"I was just wondering if you could tell me anything that you remember about what happened."

Dean shrugged again as he sucked his lower lip between his teeth, giving it a slight chew while thinking. "I don't really know what you're talking about. I'm sorry."

Smith nodded, looking over at John.

"That's the same thing he said earlier. He doesn't know what happened or why he's here, or even where here is. So, doc and I figured it may be best for you to answer his questions, since he's not going to be able to answer yours, and you know more than we do." John informed him.

Smith took a seat near Dean's bed, drawing in a deep breathe, getting Dean's full attention. "Okay, I'm going to start with a few things I know. Hopefully, it will help you remember some things and fill in the gaps for me."

"Okay." Dean replied, not sure if he'd be able to do that, since he really didn't remember anything, but he'd be willing to try.

"For starters, your car, when we had located it, you had a lot of empty liquor bottles and beer cans in the back seat. Was there something going on that you needed to drink that much?"

Dean raised his eyebrows. "Where they all recently drunk?"

"Not sure."

"I… I mean, I like my drinks, I won't deny that. But, like I said, I don't really remember anything, so I'm not sure."

"Do you remember anything before you got here?"

Dean shook his head.

"Okay," He drew another long, deep breath. "So, here's the deal. We initiated a sting operation against a human trafficking ring that is here, local. When we entered there were several people, in several rooms, who were working for them, well, more like their slaves. From the info I've gathered, all of them said, even if they started willingly, they were no longer willing participants, they were being forced into it."

"Human trafficking?" Dean questioned. "You mean like sex trafficking?"

"Exactly." The detective replied, waiting to see if Dean had any memories about it, when he didn't seem to have anything to add, the detective continued. "We had made several arrests with the people who were there, both paying customers and the ones running the operation."

Dean just continued to listen, he wasn't sure where this was going. Was he under arrest for something?

"And, there were several that we had transported to various hospitals, the ones who were forced into trafficking." The detective waited again, seeing if anything clicked in Dean's head. It didn't, he hadn't even seemed to put together the fact that he was in the hospital himself.

The detective sighed and continued. "The information I received is that they kept most of them drugged up. From what I've been able to piece together, they would lace alcoholic drinks with drugs, so the person drinking wouldn't even know what had hit them. They never offered anyone food, only drinks, so of course, no one would deny something to quench their thirst and fill their stomachs. It also helped take all the bad feelings away."

Dean still wasn't completely understanding.

"But, obviously, since your dad informed us you would never get involved in drugs, they also used needles to administer drugs to some of them. Probably when someone fought against them too hard and needed extra submission techniques."

Dean looked shocked. "What! No, I would never do…" He paused, looking back at his dad, then at the detective, then back at his dad, his expression had changed. "ME?" He asked John.

John's eyes looked sad and he nodded his head at his son.

Dean looked horrified, glancing between his dad and the detective. Evident that he truly didn't remember anything.

Smith sighed. "Dean, when we found you, when I found you, you were in a room with some other men. Do you remember any of that?"

Dean's forehead crinkled, he was still shocked, but had tried to remember but he couldn't. He shook his head no.

"Okay, there were mattresses that lined the walls, I can't speak for anything other than what was witnessed during the sting. I was the one who entered the room you were in, that found you and the others in there. There were some that were involved in sexual activities and, well, one that had deceased recently."

Another pause, trying to give Dean time to allow his mind to remember.

"You, personally," He started again, Dean showing no signs of remembering any of it. "were laying on the mattress. You were unconscious. Your ankle had a bracket around it that was chained to the floor. When you got here, they said between the number of drugs and alcohol in your system you shouldn't even be alive right now."

Dean crinkled his forehead again, he didn't remember anything about any drugs. "I… I don't remember, any of it."

Smith nodded. "You also have several broken ribs, a fractured arm and pretty significant injuries from the sexual assaults. Also, bruising and I'm sure every muscle in your body hurts like hell."

Dean looked like he was ready to zone out, to stop listening. He didn't want to hear what his injuries were. He didn't want to listen anymore. He figured it was best that he didn't remember any of it. Honestly, he wasn't even sure if he could remember anything over the past few months. He wasn't sure how long he had been there, or where his dad had come from.

His memory was fading. The last thing Dean remembered, his dad and him had went on separate hunting trips and John hadn't checked in or returned. Beyond that, Dean's memories were lost.

He closed his eyes against the words that were spinning in his head. "I don't remember." Dean whispered to himself.

"It's okay. I have enough to prosecute, I was just hoping you could fill in some gaps on your personal experience."

He gave Dean a light pat on the shoulder, bringing his attention back. "Like I said, I was the one who found you, and I'll be honest, something about you caught my attention, I don't know what, but I knew you didn't belong there, that you weren't one of their regulars. That's why I had you brought here, to the local hospital. Some of the others were sent to different area hospitals, some local some not."

Dean had opened his eyes again and was giving his attention to the man talking beside him. "It wasn't a good place, the mattress they had you on was filthy, full of diseases, blood and body fluids. Some of which I'm sure was yours, but some that wasn't. You were completely unresponsive and had far more injuries than anyone else, which is what caught my attention the most, I think. Your memories may or may not return, you went through one hell of an ordeal, and for your sake, just from what I witnessed and the information I've been given, it's probably in your best interest if they don't. But, if you remember anything at all, just give me a call."

He handed John his business card, giving Dean his best wishes he left the Winchesters alone.

Dean turned to his dad, confused, frightened, looking for his dad for answers. Dean's eyes started to droop as his body tried to stop responding to the pressure the stress was putting on him.

"What's the last thing you remember?" John asked him.

"I… I went on my own hunt, and you went on yours, and you didn't check in when you were supposed to. I waited, but you never came back. I… Dad, I don't know what's going on, or… where the hell did you come from?"

John chuckled. "Right now, you have about six months of lost memories, son."

"I was there for six months?"

"No." John shook his head. "You were only there for about 4 days, well you were missing from us for 4 days. I'm not exactly sure how long you were actually with those people."

"Missing?"

"Yeah, you got upset and walked out on everyone."

"Everyone?"

"Me, Sam, Bobby."

"Sam? Where's Sammy?"

"At the motel, with Bobby."

"With Bobby? Motel? Why the hell isn't he at school?"

John wiped a hand down his face. "Your memory is still fading in and out and you have a lot of catching up to do, hopefully, at least some of your memory will come back again, and with time, maybe it will all be clear. But, you look exhausted, and you've had an emotional day, so how about you rest some? We'll talk more when you wake, and maybe some of your memories will come back?"

Dean nodded his head, agreeing that he was feeling exhausted and emotionally drained. The doctor had ordered some low dose pain meds that managed to take the intense edge off his pain, and his eyes were aching and feeling heavy. He settled back into the bed, allowing the new information to drain from his body as he closed his eyes and let the darkness in once more.


	25. Chapter 25

**CHAPTER 25**

 _Dean had taken his first step outside. He was nervous. Something didn't feel right. But, he needed to take care of his brother. Dad didn't leave near enough food for the both of them, and there wasn't any money. He didn't know what else to do. He had seen it on tv._

 _There were several shows, some they had gotten arrested, others were on crime shows where they were being asked if they had witnessed anything. They all said it paid good money. Dean had paid close attention to the things they talked about. The things they did._

 _He hated leaving Sam, but he figured he would only be gone for a little while. It couldn't take too long to make enough money to buy some food. Sam was five, by the time Dean was five he was staying alone and responsible for Sammy. Sammy was already in bed, asleep, so he wouldn't even know he was gone._

 _After he made his way to the nearby truck stop, and found the first trucker who would pay, he had to figure out what he was supposed to do. It wasn't as easy as he thought it would be, but by the time he was finished he had it under control. The next paying customer was easier. By the third customer, he could drop to his knees and open his mouth like a pro._

 _He was gone a total of three hours. It was a little longer than he had planned, but Sammy was still asleep when he made his way back to the motel room. He showered then laid down himself. He was starving, he hadn't eaten in 3 days, but he felt exhausted from the long night, so he figured him and Sammy could go get some food in the morning._

 _Sure, it was exhausting for someone his age, but it did pay well enough to be able to feed them both, and still have money put back for the next time. Dean made his way out every night they were there. It was four days before John returned and uprooted the boys again._

 _Dean was both thankful and sad that they were leaving. He enjoyed the money his new job brought in, but something about it just felt wrong, he didn't feel safe, and he hated leaving Sam alone, so he didn't complain when his dad announced they would be heading to another town, again._

 _Somehow, somewhere, his mind shifted. He was standing in the middle of an empty parking lot, alone, his clothes were gone. He had dropped to his knees, scared to be alone. He couldn't see anyone, wasn't sure what exactly was going on, but he could feel them, feel them inside his mouth and gagging his throat. He could taste the filth of the men. He wanted to vomit, wanted to run a scream, but something had a hold on him._

 _He couldn't move, couldn't get away. He wasn't a kid anymore, somewhere along the way he had grown into the man he was, now. But the parking lot stunk of old diesel fuel and cigarettes. He started to fight, only to find himself being forced down, forced to take whatever they wanted to give. But, who was 'they'? He couldn't see anyone, couldn't hear anyone._

Dean startled awake from his nightmare, with labored breathing and a scream of fear. His eyes were wide and wild looking. John had drifted to sleep and jumped awake as Dean gasped and screamed. Dean's eyes scanned the room for the hidden dangers of his dreams, landing on the sight of his dad.

"Dean, son, it's okay." John tried to reassure him.

Dean was shaking and started dry heaving from the memory of the taste. John quickly grabbed a trash can for him to vomit in.

"It's okay, Dean, just let it out." John soothed as he rubbed circles on his son's back as he hung over the trash can. He hadn't eaten in several days so there wasn't much to vomit, mostly stomach acid and dry heaving, which made him feel worse than if he were to actually vomit.

"You good now?" John asked as he helped Dean lay back against the bed. Dean nodded his head, taking in slow, steady breaths.

"I'm sorry." Dean said in a barely audible voice.

"For what?" John questioned.

"Not being who you thought I was. Not being strong enough to be the son you wanted."

"Dean? Are you kidding me? Look, son, no one is perfect, not even you, but, you're the strongest person I know. You're stronger than I could ever be, and you have been exactly the son I wanted. You are who you are, and that's okay. I love you no matter what."

Dean sat quiet for a minute. "When can we get the hell out of this place?"

John had to chuckle at his son, that sounded just like Dean. He was always ready to get out of the hospital, he always said he can heal on his own, he doesn't need a hospital bed to help him heal.

"Let's wait for the doctor to make his rounds. He did some blood work and tests on you, so I wanna see how you're doing and what the results are before we spring you."

Dean nodded his head, laying it against the pillows and closing his eyes.

"I still don't remember." Dean whispered.

"And, that's okay." John replied.

Both men had dozed back off, it had been a long couple of days, it had been a long month for all of them. When the doctor arrived in his room he had woken them. Giving his news that it appeared the drugs were out of Dean's system, now they just had to handle the withdrawals and cravings. Dean insisted he wouldn't be craving anything, but the doctor explained to him, rather he wanted them or not, his body had gotten used to them, and his body would be craving the effects they had on him.

Of course, Dean had a hard time agreeing with that since he couldn't even remember the effects they had on him. His memory had improved, that he was thankful for. He could remember everything up to the day he walked out of Bobby's. He had memories that his dad was going to leave them, again, but the details were fuzzy, however, he figures his mind was clouded with emotions because he couldn't remember leaving or much of anything from that day or after it.

His pain level was still pretty high, and with the positive results from the blood draw the doctor said they could start him on medication that would help with the pain better. But, Dean told him he didn't want anything to make his head fuzzy again, in fact the only thing he wanted was to leave.

With a lot of convincing and threatening to sign out AMA, the doctor agreed he was well enough he could leave, providing he took it easy and went to counselling and follow up appointments. Dean agreed, even though he knew he never would. The doctor said he'd prefer him to leave the hospital with the medications he needs then to walk away with nothing.

Prescriptions were written for pain medications, two types, stronger ones in case the pain got overwhelming, and weaker ones that would help ease it but not mess with his head. He also wrote a prescription for the medication that was being administered to help with the withdrawals. And, kept him on the previous medication John had informed him about once he first spoke to the doctor. He was back on the antidepressants and anxiety meds, along with stool softeners and medication for PTSD.

Dean was still weak and not completely back to himself, but that was to be expected with the injuries and abuse his body had endured. He had gone through so much in such a short time, John as surprised he was still willing to fight and survive.

Not much was said as they left the hospital. John insisted that they stopped and filled his medication before making their way to the motel. It was late in the afternoon, near dinner time, John figured they would stay at the motel overnight then head back to Bobby's in the morning. The thing was, he hadn't been able to inform Bobby and Sam of his plan, and the way Sam was acting, he wasn't sure how he would handle it.

Dean waited in the parking lot, surrounding himself with the comfort of his baby, while John got the medications filled. John took the opportunity to call Bobby and give him a heads up on what was going on.

"Sam, have a seat." Bobby suggested. Sam sat on the edge of the bed, waiting to see what Bobby would have to say. "Your dad called me."

"Okay."

"Dean's been released from the hospital."

"Released or left on his own?"

"A little of both from what I gathered. Dean was wanting to leave and the doctor agreed after being convinced."

Sam nodded. "So, in other words, he wasn't really ready to be released?"

"Doesn't matter, thing is, they are on their way here shortly. Your dad figures we stay here for the night then head back to my place in the morning."

"And, if I don't want to go?"

"Look boy, no one is forcing you to do nothin' you don't want to."

Sam huffed and leaned back on the bed, against the headboard. His arms folded across his chest. He had ended the conversation. That was exactly the way he was sitting when John and Dean entered the room.

Dean was nervous. He didn't remember anything that had happened but knew the other 3 had been told about it as well as he had been. He hadn't seen his brother the entire time since he woke up, his dad wouldn't give him a reason for the absence of Sam when he asked. One look at his little brother and he could tell it was going to be a long night.

Dean half stumbled to the bed furthest from the door, where his brother sat pouting. Dean's body was protesting against so much movement, and he kept his arm across his broken ribs for support. He sat on the edge of the bed beside Sam.

"What's eating at you?" Dean questioned, honest concern for his brother's wellbeing.

Sam just huffed and turned away from Dean.

Dean reached out and touched Sam's shoulder, he was going to try to talk to him, but instead Sam acted out and grabbed a tight hold onto Dean's wounded wrist and gave it a twist as he pulled it off his shoulder.

Dean grimaced in pain, he knew Sam's act was deliberate. He knew his brother meant to cause him pain, but, he couldn't figure out why. He didn't know what he had done to make Sam so upset.

"Sammy?" Dean questioned.

"It's Sam!"

"Okay, Sam, I don't know what I did to make you so upset at me, but whatever it was, I'm sorry."

"You're sorry? You're sorry! You told me to leave! Then, you walked out on all of us, and for what? To get drunk? To get high? To go fuck some other dudes for a couple bucks?"

Dean sat silent for a moment. He wasn't sure how to reply to that. He didn't remember any of it, and now his brother was telling him he did it on purpose. Was there truth to that? Had he left for those reasons? Sam knew him better than anyone, so he must be right.

"Sam… I…"

"Don't remember, yeah, so I've been told!"

"What do you want from me? I said I'm sorry, I honestly don't remember any of it, you might be right, I don't know! But, I don't know what to do, where to go from here."

"Just leave! That's what the hell you wanted anyhow! Just go find you some guy to fuck you till you break and keep you drugged up so you don't remember. That's what you've always wanted, isn't it? To be numb? To forget the world."

"I'm pretty sure I've never said that! NO, that's not what I've wanted. That's not what I want now! I want to go on with life, with our life, the way it used to be, the way it's meant to be."

Sam stood from the bed, he was too angry to sit still any longer. "Well, you don't have to worry about it anymore. You don't have to worry about me. I'll go back to college, like you told me to, but don't you dare come looking for me when something else happens to you or Dad."

"Sam… I…" Dean followed Sam's actions, standing in front of him. "So, that's it? Huh? I'm expandable? I'm replaceable? Don't matter to you anymore? You're just going to replace your brother, your family, with the new family you have at school? You think that's possible do you? Sure, you may be right. It's not like you've actually given a shit about anything but yourself anyhow!"

Dean was pretty sure his heart had shattered on the floor. He didn't have the fight left in him. Right now, he longed for his brother, he needed his brother, he wanted his brother. But, he didn't want anything to do with him. He was ready to walk away from Dean and the family. He had done it before, but not when Dean was so broken.

Dean dropped his head, tears filled his eyes but went unshed.

"Fine."

He made his way to his bag, without another word, and pulled out some clean clothes, making his way to the bathroom to shower. He couldn't do this, not now.

"Wow, real mature, Dean!" Sam spit out at him. "Just going to act like a baby and shut down? That's what you're best at huh? Ignoring real life? Running when things get too hard!"

Dean gave him a glance with an evil look then disappeared into the bathroom.

"Sam, don't you think you could have gone a little easier on him?" John asked once Dean was out of the room.

"Why? Can't handle the truth?"

"We don't know if that is the truth. We don't know how he ended up where he was."

"Well, with his past, it's pretty obvious, isn't it?"

"You really think, considering what the hell the two of you had just been through, that he would willing subject himself to something like that?" Bobby questioned.

"Yeah, I do." Sam replied.

"Your brother was obviously not in his right mind when he left. And, he still isn't completely there. It's not going to be hard to push him over an edge that you don't want him to go." Bobby reminded him.

"Why? You afraid he's going to do something stupid? Like kill himself? So, what, if he's that damn dumb than let him do it!"

"You don't mean that." John chimed back into the conversation.

"Yes, I do! He's already fucked his life up. He's already crossed lines he should have never crossed, so what the hell is the difference?"

"Boy!" John's voice was full of irritation and exhaustion. "We don't know that he willingly got himself involved in anything. We don't know that he crossed that line on purpose. He was drugged for Christ sake, and it's possible he was drugged before he was ever with the first guy. In fact, the detective said there was evidence of him fighting, fighting more than anyone else there. FIGHTING, Sam! That means it wasn't something he wanted."

"Just means he regretted it once he got too involved."

Bobby sighed. "Is there no getting through to you?"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Look, your brother may have messed up. Okay, he did mess up, he left. He stormed out in an emotional rage, but you can't say you ain't never did the same, I've known you far too long and I've seen you do the exact same thing. The difference is, your brother always had your back. He always made sure you were safe, no matter where you went. Even when you were at college he would keep an eye on you and pay close attention to the news stories around you."

Bobby was beyond the point of controlling his emotions any longer. "But, Dean walked out and found himself alone. No one was there to make sure he was safe. No one watched his back. So, yeah, he may have found himself in some trouble. It wouldn't be Dean if he didn't. But, the way things happened, rather he was desperate for money or not. Rather he knew what he was getting into or not, doesn't matter.

Bobby had raised his voice in frustration. "I don't give two shits if he walked into the place and told everyone there to fuck him. The thing is, the boy is broken, emotional, and confused and he needs all the damn support he can get right now. His past is just that, the past, right now, is what we need to deal with. Not what he did as a damn kid. And, if he's that desperate now, don't you think we need to help him figure out why and get him through it?"

Bobby made a lot of sense, but Sam was in no mood to listen to common sense, he was too busy fuming over his own emotions.

"I know why he's so desperate! He had to get his damn booze somehow!"

"If it was laced with drugs, I'd say someone else was buying it for him." John interjected.

"Exactly my point!" Sam said angrily.

Neither of them noticed the shower water turn off. Neither of them had noticed Dean stepped out from the bathroom and hearing their conversation had slid down the wall beside the bathroom door. He sat with his head in his hands, the unshed tears threatening to let loose.

He didn't understand. He didn't understand why, or how, he was in the shape he was in. He didn't understand why his little brother hated him so much.

Everything he did growing up was for his brother. He lost his childhood so he could take care of Sammy. He lost his innocence to make sure he had everything he needed. And now, he hated him, over something he didn't even remember.

John was the first one to notice Dean sitting so still against the wall. His knees pulled up to his chest. He wore a pair of sweatpants that were too loose on him, with the weight he had lost from being starved. And a t-shirt. He had a hoodie sitting beside him, but needed help bandaging his ribs and wrists before he could put it on.

He knew it would be baggy too, but that would be okay, it would make it easier for him to hide away in. His socks sat by his hoodie. His ankles torn and stitched, needed tending to also.

He was hoping his dad would be able to help him, but with the conversation that was taking place, he wondered if anyone would ever help him again. He might have messed up too much this time. He may have pushed everyone away, the only reason anyone would stay was out of pity. He was sure of it. But, he just wished he knew why. He wished he could remember what he did that tore them away from him. There was an emptiness in his chest, one that ached with loneliness and sadness.

His elbows rested on his knees that were at his chest, the back of his head against the wall behind him and his face buried in his hands. He just wanted to run, to leave the hell he had found himself in, but that's what got him here in the first place, he figured, in the morning, people would start leaving him, little by little, until he found himself alone. Alone in the darkness of hell that surrounded him.

It wasn't worth much if his family hated him. He didn't have a reason to live anymore, not without his brother and his dad. He started thinking of the ways he could end it, without ending it himself. He could find an ugly monster to hunt, and let it take him out. Go down swinging, like a hero, like a true hunter, no one had to know the real reason behind it. No one had to know he was really a coward and wanted to be taken down.

If he did it now, while he was injured, then he wouldn't have much of a chance anyhow, so it wouldn't really be like he went down intentionally, he was just too injured to be able to fight it off properly. Yeah, that sounded best. That was his ideal way to go, the way that would hopefully leave his dad proud. The way that wouldn't upset his brother. The way Bobby would be able to accept.

It would be just as easy to make his way back into the bathroom, tear open every cut on his body, add to the ones around his wrist, bleed out on the floor. The housekeeping could clean the mess, no one else would even have to worry about it. But, that would make him look like a coward and would disappoint his dad too much, he couldn't do that, not to Dad. The hunting ideal was way better. He would just have to find something to hunt.


	26. Chapter 26

**CHAPTER 25**

"Hey, Dean."

His dad's words startled him back into the present. With a small jump, he lifted his head to look at his dad. Confusion laced the unshed tears. His eyes begged his dad to help him. To help him understand. To help him out of the hell that was locked inside his head. To help him keep his brother.

"You okay, there?" John asked.

Dean just continued to stare, almost as if he was staring through his dad. His face lacked the liveliness it once held. John reached down and took Dean's hands in his. Looking at the wounds on his wrists. They were raw. It looked as if there were different things used to restrain him.

A rope, that was for sure, possibly something metal, like cuffs, and what looked like it could have been barbwire. He had small lacerations that took a few stitches each, that littered his wrists. His skin was red and angry looking from the restraints pulling so tight and rubbing his skin away as he fought against them.

They had been covered, this was the first time John had a chance to really look at them. Dean didn't react, he remained an emotionless blob sitting in front of his dad. John reached up and rubbed a nasty bruise on the side of Dean's face. It didn't look like it was caused by a fist, it looked as if an object had struck the side of his face, like a bat or club of some type.

The finger marks that lined his throat had started changing colors and could be seen more clearly through the rope burns that encircled his neck. His son had been choked, both by a rope that was tied around him, and by the hands of others. Bruises that resembled the marks of fingers and hand prints littered his arms. Small whelps also accompanied the marks, evidence that Dean had been beaten by some type of a belt or whip, chances are, knowing Dean, it was needed as a way to put him into submission.

Dean's face was way too thin, his cheeks were sinking in. His arms were losing their muscle tone. John wondered when the last time his son ate was. He couldn't remember him eating anything in the hospital. A little bit of pudding and jello to make the nurses and doctor happy, but no solid food.

John glanced at the counter that sat beside them, taking notice of the bandages and medical supplies that were needed to be replaced after his shower.

"Come on." John said as he placed a hand on Dean's elbow and one behind his back to help him off the floor. Bobby had made his way over beside them, concerned for Dean's lack of life. "Will you grab those supplies?" John asked Bobby, who did what was requested of him.

John walked Dean to the edge of the bed, opposite the one Sam sat on. Dean seemed to be in a zombie state, zoned out, not wanting to face reality. Sam watched, taking note of the same injuries and physical condition John had.

Without a word, John started bandaging Dean's wrists. Putting the cream on, then covering them in bandages, one at a time. After the bandages were applied he wrapped his fractured arm back in the soft cast. The doctor said that would be the type of cast he would keep since the injuries on his wrist were so severe. It wasn't a complete break so they were told it would be okay to unwrap for showers and bandage changes. He then lifted Dean's shirt.

His torso was littered with bruises. There were large ones and smaller ones. The broken ribs were obvious to see, they were the worst of the bruises. His back, equally as bad. Again, there were whelps that told them he was whipped with some type of object. There were burn marks resembling the appearance of some type of taser or shocking device on his side and chest. His skin was stretched tight against his ribs, sunken in by the lack of nutrition. The bottom of his rib cage stuck out from his too sunken stomach.

John picked up the bandage and wrapped his broken ribs. It was nothing Dean wasn't used to. The kid had more broke ribs than he could remember, but with the other injuries, they looked to be extra painful. Dean still didn't show any signs of acknowledging his dad was even touching him.

John then moved to Dean's ankles. The shackle that had been around his ankle had left almost a full circle of stitches. His skin looked red and puffy. The doctor had explained to him it wasn't a clean cut, that the shackle had ripped his skin away as it dug into him. John lifted Dean's pant leg, curious of other injuries.

His leg was red all the way up to his knee. It was sore and showing the signs of effects from the cuff. The other leg wasn't nearly as bad. It hadn't been chained to the ground. But, there were still whelps that matched the rest of his body and bruises that appeared to be hands that had held his son's legs apart with force. John wrapped the ankle that had the stitches.

He wanted so badly to examine the rest of his body, to see the other injuries. Part of him was scared to see what he would find. His stomach already felt like it wanted to vomit just by the thoughts of his boy being tortured and receiving the injuries that he could see. Another part of him didn't want to breach Dean's privacy. But, the boy always slept in his boxers, so would it really be crossing the privacy line, or would it just be getting his son ready for bed?

John chewed on his thoughts for a moment. Dean had finally moved. He pushed himself back against the wall that the bed sat on and pulled his knees back to his chest. He started rocking himself back and forth. His mind, still, a thousand miles away. His breathing became heavy as his eyes drifted closed.

John figured Dean was exhausted, he wasn't sure where his mind was, but knew what ever was going on in there, was exhausting him. He got his nighttime medication, both the things he had been prescribed before, that the doctor said would be okay to give him since if he ever remembered the PTSD would be worse than anything they've ever seen before. And, he also gave him the medicine for the effects of the drugs his body was recovering from.

Dean took them, emotionless, robotic. He never opened his eyes when his dad put them to his mouth. He then pulled Dean down onto the bed, covered him and made sure his head was comfortable on the pillow.

Sam had sat and watched everything their dad had done to take care of Dean. He had to admit, even with all the anger that had built up in him, he had never seen his brother so lost. He was broken as much physically as he was mentally. Reaching the limits of capability of functioning he seemed to just shut down. Sam had his dad take care of him several times, and Dean was always there when he needed him, but he had never seen his dad take care of Dean, not like this.

"Sam." John said, exhausted, without turning to look at his youngest son. "Is it okay if Bobby shares a bed with you tonight? I think I need to stay near Dean."

"Uh… yeah, that's fine." Sam replied, seeing the brokenness in his dad too. The concern that man had for his family may have been hidden, but it was definitely there when it needed to be.

John just sat on the bed, watching his oldest son sleep. He seemed so lifeless. His skin was pale and covered with bruises that seemed too unreal. He looked over at his older friend, helplessness shining in his eyes.

"We just gotta make it through tonight, tomorrow will be a new day, we'll tackle that when we get to it." Bobby reminded him with the wisdom that he held.

John nodded, giving Dean a slight pat on his shoulder. He made his way to the bathroom and took care of his own nightly needs before returning to the room, he slid himself under the covers beside his oldest boy.

Dean was so strong, so brave. He wasn't supposed to be broken like this. But, Bobby was right, Dean had a long, exhausting day, and was still healing, he had reached his limit and allowed his body to give into the exhaustion. Tomorrow would be a new day, with new adventures, and they would have to deal with them as they came up, the same as before.

The men turned the lights off after they all settled into bed. Sam hadn't spoken and Bobby wasn't going to push him. The room fell quiet as everyone's minds seemed to be in different places.

"Good night, Dean." John whispered. "I'm so sorry I couldn't have saved you from this, son. I'm sorry you always seem to have to fight your way through everything. I'd understand if it became too much, I wouldn't blame you for giving up. But, I love you, and want you to fight this as much as you can."

Sam's eyes weld up with tears at his father's words. His big brother did always seem to have to fight through a lot. His whole life was one big fight. One big fight that he protected his little brother from. In fact, he had protected him from a lot.

He had sheltered him the best he could. He made sure Sam stayed as happy as possible and every time he needed him, Dean always seemed to be there, no matter what was going on in his own life. Maybe their dad was right, maybe Dean had worn out from the constant fight of life, maybe he was ready to just give up.

Sam knew Dean needed him, he was always what gave Dean that drive to continue, no matter how hard life got, but Sam had just pushed him away, blamed him for everything that he had ever had to face. He blamed him for what had just happened to him, even though they didn't know all the facts, and probably never would.

Sam had so much anger built up, anger that he had used to lash out at his brother. But, was it really him? Was he really so angry at Dean? Even if Dean had willingly entered into the trouble he found himself in, chances are, he didn't fully understand what he was getting into, and could Sam really blame him for being so desperate? Maybe Dean didn't want to fight anymore and figured that would be the easiest way out? But, couldn't Dean see how much Sam needed him? Of course not ! How could he expect him to see that when all he did was yell at him and blame him for everything negative in his life?

Bobby feared the family was broken. He had always had faith that no matter what they faced they would fix it and become whole again, but seeing Dean tonight, made it a little harder to hold onto that faith.

Dean wasn't Dean. Even after the ordeal a month ago, even after all the hardships and heartaches, Dean always kept a part of himself. But, tonight, Dean was lost, he was lost, broken, and alone. Sure, there were people around him, but that didn't mean he didn't feel alone. Sam had pushed him away, said he didn't need him, that he would be better without his big brother, nothing could ever make Dean feel more alone than that.

He was an empty shell, like never before, completely void of any emotions. Bobby hoped morning would shine new light on the situation, but he feared it would take much more to bring the kid back. It would take a lot more for Dean to find Dean again and fill his emptiness back up.

John tried to sleep, but it was restless. He was too concerned about his son. He just wanted to make sure Dean would be okay, he wanted to see him happy again, see him full of life, life that was lost, life that had been taken from him. The same emptiness he felt when Mary had died seemed to creep inside of him. He was feeling the same loss and pain for his oldest son. And, he didn't know how to fix it, he didn't know what to do to make everything right again.

Dean started having a restless sleep as well, slight body twitches and increased breathing. John tried to sooth him, tried to keep him from having a nightmare, it seemed to help, even if it didn't completely take it away. John wondered if Dean was in pain if that's what he was reacting to.

Dean had pretty much refused pain meds. He wanted to be able to clear his head, to remember what he had forgotten, and he knew the pain medication would keep him from doing that, but he also knew they were there, just in case he needed them.

Dean's head was a knotted-up mess. He couldn't make sense of what ran through it. He knew it wasn't right, somehow, he knew. He knew he shouldn't change ages and locations so much, and somehow, the things that did make sense, the time line was wrong. He would have injuries during one thought then the next they would be gone, then back again. But, he couldn't get his mind to straighten them up, no matter how hard he tried.

" _Drink up, you'll enjoy it!" "I said, drink up! That means all of it, don't leave anything behind."_

" _You want to have some fun? Get a little drunk? Come on, I'll show you a good time." "Don't worry, this won't hurt much, you won't even remember the pain."_

" _You scream like a bitch! Just shut up and enjoy it." "You want to breathe? Then maybe you should do what you're told to do."_

" _You better follow my orders, or you'll get it worse next time." "Don't like the burn of the electricity? Maybe you shouldn't try so hard to fight."_

" _Come on, it's not that bad, just a little drink, you know you want it."_

" _I've got women, you like women? Or do you prefer men?"_

" _What's a little boy like you doing out here? Isn't it past your bedtime?" "Did Daddy teach you how to do this so good?"_

" _You keep fighting and your damn ankle is going to be cut off, and guess what? I don't give a shit! No one gives a shit about you!"_

" _You're worthless now! Nothing but a little bitch." "No one is going to give a shit about a piece of garbage like you!"_

" _Spread them, or I'll fucking break them!" "You wanna cry for Daddy? Well, Daddy isn't coming, so scream all you want."_

Dean tried to fight the thoughts in his sleep but ended up waking in a panic. He tried to pull his body into a seated position but it protested against the pain of the sudden movement. John tightened his grip on the arm that laid across Dean's chest, letting him know he was there to protect him.

"DAD!"

Dean yelled as his eyes flew opened and his body shook uncontrollably. He was having a hard time catching his breath. His body ached, it more than ached. He could feel everything from his dream. He wasn't sure if it was real or not, but either way, he could feel it.

His screaming and sudden panic woke Sam and Bobby as well. John was holding his son within seconds.

"It's okay son, I'm right here. Dad's here. It's okay. You're safe. You're okay." John cooed as he repeated the words until Dean was able to understand them.

He whimpered as he fought to catch his breath and stop his shaking. He whimpered in fear and pain. He whimpered with the memories that were still stuck in his head. Memories he knew he didn't want to remember. Stray tears started dripping down his face. Bobby had turned the light on, afraid the darkness would cause more fear, and John wiped away the tears from his son's face.

"Dad?"

Dean whimpered as he started to calm, his breathing more even but John could feel his son's heart beat like it was going to leap from his chest, and his body was still shaking, it had seemed to calm some, but not completely gone away.

"I'm right here, son. I'm not going anywhere, it's okay, I'm right here."

John had helped Dean lean against the pillows behind him. He had been struggling to sit up, to get out of the laying position he spent so many days in. John sat beside his son, determined he would be there, no matter what. Dean turned toward John and wrapped his arms tightly around his chest, he rested his face buried in his dad's shoulder. His body was still shaking, but he needed the comfort. He needed to be held, to know he was safe.

John returned the gesture, wrapping his arms around his son and rubbing gently on his back. He had seen the injuries and didn't want to cause him any additional pain.

Sam laid watching his dad and brother. He was torn. He wasn't sure what he was supposed to think or feel. He watched his older brother get the comfort and care that he should have gotten his entire life. His brother needed to know he was safe, that someone was there to take care of him.

He may not remember what had happened, but something was causing his brother nightmares. Rather it was from past events or the most recent one, his subconscious mind was working overtime, causing his already broken soul to shatter even deeper.

"Dad?" Sam quietly got his dad's attention.

"Yeah, Sam?"

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know." John sounded completely worn out. The man sounded like the only thing he wanted at that moment was sleep. Sleep that he couldn't seem to get. "Sam, he's going to have a long road ahead of him, and he's not going to be able to do it without you."

Sam sighed. "I know." He replied so quietly John wouldn't have heard him if the room wasn't so quiet.

John continued to comfort Dean as his body started to calm.

"I'm… I'm sorry, Dad." Dean apologized with a volume that almost matched Sam's.

"For what?"

"Becoming the piece of garbage that I am."

"Dean…" John started but was interrupted by his other son.

Sam had gotten up and moved his way over to the bed his dad and Dean laid on. "You're not garbage." Sam said, a bit nervous and still unsure what he was supposed to feel. He sat on the opposite side of Dean, putting him between Sam and John, surrounding him with safety and comfort.

"I'm sorry I made you hate me." Dean practically sobbed the words to Sam. "If you really want me to leave, I will. You guys can go back to Bobby's and I'll just stay here. It's not like I can make my life much worse."

"Dean, I don't want you to go anywhere, and I don't want to leave either. We're a family, and no matter how hard life may get, we're in this together."

"You sure?" Dean seemed way too unsure of himself.

"Yeah, I'm sure." Sam reassured. "You just gotta give me some time, okay? I'm not really sure what to think right now, I'm not sure how I'm supposed to feel right now."

"Me either." Dean whispered, his voice no longer able to come out without extra force.

He had pulled his head away from his dad but didn't release his hold on his shirt. He couldn't seem to let go of the reassurance and safety he felt, he didn't want it to leave, didn't want to find himself back in whatever hell he had just come from.

Leaning his head back on John's shoulder, Dean seemed to have used all his energy on the nightmare and what little conversation he was able to have.

"Dad." Dean seemed to have to force the word out, his eyes closed and his head leaned against his dad, unable to hold itself up.

"Yeah, son?"

"I… it hhurtss." He managed to stutter the words out.

"You want something to knock the pain out?"

Dean nodded, using what little ability he could find to move his head.

John looked up at Sam.

"I got it." Sam said as he made his way to the medications, bringing back a bottle of water and one of the good pain pills they both helped Dean take the medicine.

"Give it a few minutes, and it should start taking care of that pain." John stated, trying to give comfort to his son.

It only took about ten minutes and Dean seemed to fall back asleep. Sam and John positioned him in a more comfortable position and hoped the pain meds would keep him asleep for the rest of the night. He was exhausted and needed all the sleep he could get. He was running on empty, not even having the strength to lift his own head.

Bobby had turned the lights back off, he laid in his bed, observing, but not interrupting. Sam had settled on one side of Dean, and John on the other. All four men fell asleep, knowing they needed as much as they could get, they needed their heads as clear as possible, if they were going to be able to be the support Dean needed.


	27. Chapter 27

**CHAPTER 27**

Morning came and Dean managed to sleep through the rest of the night. He had several dreams but between Sam and Dad they kept him calmed enough that he didn't wake. They figured the pain medication probably helped a lot with that too.

Bobby woke before the others. Since he was left with a bed by himself, once he had fallen back asleep he wasn't woken again. Only Sam and John were woken by Dean's unsettledness. Bobby took his shower and prepared himself for the day without waking the others.

After packing the rest of his belongings, he left to purchase coffee for everyone. He figured it would be needed for them to be able to get up and going since they had managed to sleep through all his activities. He was right.

He returned to the room and woke Sam and John, handing them each a cup of coffee. With tiredness still at the edges of their minds, they both groaned and stretched to prepare themselves for the long trip ahead. Once they managed to pull themselves out of bed they packed their belongings after their morning routines were finished.

They chose to let Dean sleep while they prepared for the day and packed. It wasn't until they were ready to leave that they woke Dean.

"Hey, Dean?" John sat carefully on the bed beside his sleeping son, giving him a small shake of the shoulder.

Dean mumbled and slowly drifted his eyes partly open, looking up at his dad.

"How you feeling this morning?"

Dean closed his eyes to gather himself, then reopened them, unsure of exactly what day it was or what was going on. He looked slightly confused, but John was confident that his son at least knew who he was.

Dean rubbed his eyes, pushing himself into a seated position against the wall. "Woulda been better if I had something prettier to wake up to."

"Hey! You don't get any better looking than this." John tried his best to look offended as he gave a slight tap to Dean's shoulder.

"I don't know who lied to you." Dean joked.

"We're heading to Bobby's this morning, you ready to get out of this place?" John added, giving Dean's leg a slight pat and grin.

"Uh…"

Dean tried to understand what was going on, where they were at. He had started to talk, started to use his voice, but was stopped. He wasn't sure why, but something inside him suddenly told him he wasn't allowed to speak. He looked around the room, taking in the sight of the other men in the room. He knew he should trust them, that he was safe, but he couldn't help but feel the fear that he was trapped and the day wasn't going to end well.

"Hey, it's okay, son." John assured him, sensing the tension building in Dean and confusion laced his eyes.

It was good to see the old Dean come out. Even if it was for a fleeting moment it gave them hope that Dean was still alive somewhere inside.

"Bobby, Sam, why don't you two load everything up and head on out. Dean and I will be right behind you in the impala."

Sam didn't like the idea of them separating, but understood Dean needed the space and the safety of not being surrounded by so many people. Bobby agreed and without hesitation he started loading the bags in his truck.

"Dad…" Sam started protesting, but his dad turned his attention to Sam with a scowled look on his face. "Is Dean going to be okay?"

"Yeah, he'll be fine, he just needs some space, that's all." John replied.

Dean sat quietly, not reacting to the fact others were talking about him. He seemed to have folded into himself.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked.

Dean just looked up at his brother, no words spoken, no emotion evident.

"Seriously Dad? You think this is fine?" Sam said with anger in his voice as he pointed toward Dean.

"Sam!" John warned.

"What? I'm not allowed to speak my own thoughts now? Because, what? It's going to upset Dean? It's going to make him feel some type of emotion? Well good luck with that! From what I can see he has no damn emotions!"

Sam was furious. He didn't know why. He didn't know what made him so upset, he just knew it dwelled up from somewhere deep inside.

"Sam, I think it will do everyone some good if we get some space between the two of you." Bobby suggested.

"Yeah, whatever, I'm obviously not good enough for my own brother anymore!" Sam shouted.

Dean's body jumped at the sudden shout from his brother. He was feeling so confused, so lost, so uncertain about everything.

"Mmmay…. Cc..cccannn…" Dean couldn't seem to get his words to cooperate with him. "Iiisss… it okay… if I… uh… can I have permission… tttt… ttto talk?" Dean was curled into himself. He was trembling with fear and uncertainty.

"Why the hell do you have to ask that for?" Sam shot back at his brother.

Dean just shrugged his shoulders.

"Of course, you can talk! When have you not been allowed to say whatever the hell you've wanted?"

Dean shrugged. "Wwwhen… I… was…" Dean stopped, confusion filling him. He wasn't really sure. He knew what he wanted to say, but it didn't make sense. It didn't make sense because he couldn't remember anything else besides what he wanted to say.

"When what?" Sam asked.

"I… they would hurt…. Without permission." Dean's words were broken, not making any sense to himself. The confusion filled his face.

"They would hurt you if you spoke without permission?" John questioned in a gentle tone.

Dean nodded his head, still confused and scared.

"Dean, I know we'll probably have to remind you several times, but no one here is going to hurt you, and you don't have to worry about speaking, you will always have permission to say what you want."

Dean's eyes shot down and away from his dad. "Okay." He said quietly.

"Dean, I don't understand I'm sorry." Sam said as he sat beside Dean. "I didn't realize there was an issue with talking. I didn't know they would hurt you if you spoke."

"I don't really remember." Dean admitted. "I guess, that's what I think anyhow."

"That was something that was already predicted." John informed the both of them. "That's why if Dean doesn't want to talk, if he remains quiet, it's okay, I don't push him. You more or less have to judge by his facial expressions and body language."

"I'm not used to that. I don't know how to handle Dean being so quiet and unlively." Sam admitted.

"Sorry." Dean whispered, not able to bring his eyes to meet either of the men.

"Don't be." John said. "It's going to take some time for the both of you to adjust to whatever needs to be adjusted to, it's going to be tough on all of us, but especially on you two."

The brothers knew their dad was right, somewhere deep down they wanted each other, they knew they were safe and could make it through anything as long as they were by each other's side, but they didn't know how to get to where they wanted to be. They didn't know how to overcome this, how to move past what had been thrown at them.

"You ready, boy?" Bobby asked, giving Sam a gentle grip on his shoulder.

"Uh, yeah." He addressed Bobby then turned his attention back to Dean. "You gonna be alright?" Sam had reached out and grasped his brother's hand.

Dean nodded his head, turning his wrist so he could return the gesture of holding onto his brother.

"He'll be fine, he'll be with me, and we'll be right behind you." John reassured his youngest son.

Sam nodded, sadness filling his heart and he pulled his hand away from his brother's. Dean let his hand fall, lifeless, nothing else to hold onto. He let Sam leave. He wanted so badly to cry out for his brother to stay, to not leave him, to not take his security away, but instead, he let his brother walk away. Leaving him alone with his dad. He wasn't scared of his dad, but he still had a fear that anyone around him would hurt him.

John made sure Dean had his morning medication and was calm enough to head out. He offered to stop and grab them breakfast but Dean declined. John did grab him a protein bar and something to drink when he stopped for gas.

He had hoped Dean would at least put something on his stomach. By this point, it would be ridiculous for him to assume Dean would be able to eat a full meal, but he had to start somewhere, start putting nutrition in his body somehow.

Dean remained curled into himself in the front seat. He was relaxed with the comfort and familiarity of his baby. He was used to being behind the steering wheel, but with the way his mind was working, that wasn't going to be an option.

"Dad?"

After several hours in the car, with nothing but their tunes playing softly in the background, Dean broke the silence.

"Yeah?"

"Why can't I remember what happened? I mean, I have these feelings, and they don't really make sense to me, I think they would if I could remember why I have them, but I can't."

"You mean, like feeling you need permission to speak?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I think things are coming back to you, slowly. It just seems the feelings are going to be the first thing to return, so they may not completely make sense, but that's okay. Just trust yourself. You don't ever act out for no reason. You're brave and you're strong. So, for you to feel fear and weakness, there's a reason, I can guarantee you that! You just gotta hang on and believe you'll get through this, those feelings won't last forever."

"What if they do?"

"They won't."

Dean leaned his face against the coolness of the window, he wasn't feeling very well, but didn't want to bother his dad with it. So, he used the cooled glass to help him feel less hot and calm his stomach.

Dean started feeling restless, he was feeling miserable. Between the sickness that had creeped in on him and the pain that was building from the injuries. He couldn't seem to sit still. Couldn't seem to find a comfortable position. John watched his son fight to gain control of his own body, his own feelings. It wasn't until Dean started groaning in misery that John intervened.

"You okay there?"

Dean moaned and shrugged his shoulders. "I don't feel so well."

John nodded, taking note of how close the next town was, "Hang on for a few more minutes, we're almost to the next town, I'll pull over when we get there."

"Okay." Dean said quietly as he wrapped his arm around his stomach.

John called Bobby to find out their location, told them where they were going to be stopping at. Thankfully they weren't very far ahead of them, they had stopped for breakfast and lunch so they were taking their time on the drive. Bobby agreed he'd turn around and go back in case Dean wasn't able to make the whole drive in one day. The thought had never crossed their minds. There was never a time any of them were unable to make a drive.

John pulled into a parking lot once they reached to town. Dean had rolled himself into a ball on the seat, his body tight around itself. John turned off the engine and made his way to Dean's door. Carefully opening it, to be sure his son didn't fall out, he reached out and supported Dean as he knelt beside him.

His body felt like it was on fire. He was hot with a fever. The whites of his eyes were bloodshot, his body trembled with the coldness that it felt.

"God, Dean, you're burning up!"

John was instantly concerned. Dean's breathing was labored, he was shivering, his heartbeat was fast and hard. He had to fight to keep his eyes open, to concentrate on his dad. He seemed to collapse in his dad's arms.

"I don't feel so well." Dean repeated with a raspy sounding voice.

"Yeah, I know." John said. He looked around the area, spotting a motel nearby. "How about we stop for the day? Get us a room. Bobby and Sam are on their way to meet us." John suggested as he pushed Dean back into his seat and closed the door.

Dean didn't object, he didn't even acknowledge his dad had spoken. John drove to the motel and paid for a room for the night. He helped Dean into the room. After laying him on the bed he made his way to the bathroom to make Dean a tub of cool water. He needed to get the fever down, somehow. He was way too hot. He called Bobby with the location then drew his attention back to his oldest son.

John removed Dean's clothes, leaving his boxers. He then unwrapped the bandages and carried his limp body and laid him in the tub. His entire body was fire red from the fever. His legs, the area he wasn't able to examine before, were covered in bruises. The inside of his thighs was marked up by the pressure of other's bodies that pushed against him. Smaller round bruises indicated the fingers that pressed hard into his skin. He had whelps like the rest of his body, and also burn marks like what was on his side and chest.

John cupped the water and poured it over his son's body, watching as it trickled down the paths between the whelps and scars. He poured the water over Dean's short hair, wiping it from his eyes and nose as it poured down his chin and neck. He ran his fingers through his son's hair, taking note of the lump at the back of his head.

He had obviously hit his head on something, at some point. Or, maybe they had knocked him out in order to get to him? He wasn't sure, but he was sure it was still painful and swollen. Dean laid with his head against the wall, his body limp, and his dad supporting his weight so he wouldn't fall into the water. His eyes remained closed, it looked as if he was sleeping.

Bobby and Sam had made it to the room, and Sam gasped when he saw his brother's lifeless body.

"Bobby, what do you have for fevers?" John asked without turning from Dean.

"I got some things, let me see." He replied as he left to check his medical supplies.

"Sam, help me get him out of the tub, he's been in here long enough, hopefully his fever has dropped."

Sam did as his dad requested. His stomach doing flip flops at the sight of his brother's injuries and brokenness. John didn't want to know what other types of injuries there were. He didn't want to take away Dean's modesty, but he needed to remove the now wet boxers. He dried him off the best he could, then removed his boxers. Replacing them with dry ones once he finished drying him off.

John was sure his stomach wouldn't be able to handle much more of this. His son was beaten and abused. He was tortured, not once, but twice, in the past month. Dean had been through more than any human being should ever have to face.

Sam helped John get Dean into a bed. Leaving only his boxers on and covering him with a thin sheet.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Not sure." John replied. "He was fine, we even talked for a little while, then he started getting restless and when I asked him if he was okay he said he wasn't feeling well. So, when I stopped here, he was burning up."

"Sounds like he may still have an infection." Bobby added, handing John some antibiotics and medication to reduce his fever.

John managed to get the medicine down Dean, even though he wasn't completely responding, they were still able to force him to do things like take his medications.

Dean slept most of the evening away. They were only about 4 hours from Bobby's but they all knew there was no way Dean would be able to make the drive feeling like he did. John kept him up on his medication, even giving him the stronger pain meds to help him rest better. He was restless and expressed several moans while he slept, but none of it seemed to threaten to wake him.

"I'm worried about him, Bobby." John sat at the small table in the room, across from his friend who sat in the other chair.

"He's a tough kid, he'll fight as hard as he can."

"That's just it, I mean, how much more fight does he have left in him?"

"He's not the type to give up easily."

"None of this has been easy, and he still hasn't given up, but he's sick and not exactly in the best shape to fight."

"Give him time, he'll be feeling better soon. Nothing keeps him down too long."

"Bobby, I haven't seen him eat anything since the last time you forced him to eat at your house." John sighed.

"Looks like I'm gonna have to do that again, he can't go without eating. Even if it makes him sick, he's still gotta get something in his body."

John nodded his head, looking back at Dean, heavyhearted. "I just can't lose him. Not like this."

"He ain't going nowhere as long as we all keep an eye on him and keep pushing him to fight."

Sam felt like a child, a child that was sitting around, watching his big brother, possibly die, and not be able to do anything about it. He wanted to run into his dad's arms, to cry and sob until he felt better, but he couldn't interrupt the adults.

John recognized the look in his youngest son's eyes and moved away from the table, sitting on the bed beside Sam. He wrapped his arm around his son and pulled him in close, resting his head in the crook of his neck. "You okay?"

He didn't really have to ask as soon as he wrapped his arm around Sam the tears started flowing freely. Sam was scared. He didn't want to lose his brother either. He didn't want to keep seeing him in so much pain and discomfort. He had just made it through one ordeal and now was faced with another. It wasn't fair. Yes, Dean was one hell of a fighter, but when was enough too much?

Dean continued his restless sleep, moaning and groaning in discomfort and pain, fear resting on his face as he grasped the covers around him, his jaw tightened and loosened with the things running through his mind. There were a few times he mumbled words no one could understand, but mostly he stayed quiet, his body reacting to what his mouth couldn't express. Perhaps it was fear of speaking that held him so quiet.

The men tried to get as much sleep as they could, concern for Dean at the top of their minds. They would wake to check on him, then fall back asleep. Each in their own timing. The morning light slipped through the crack of the curtains, filtering out the darkness of the night.

Dean tossed his head a few times, groaning as his body protested against any movement.

"Daaaad?" Dean moaned out in a drawn out painful cry.

He was lying in a pool of his own sweat. The bedding beneath him was soaked, he was only in a pair of boxers, but even they were soaking wet. The sheet that covered him had absorbed the sweat from his chest. His pillow soaked up the wetness that covered his head and filled his hair. His fever had broken, leaving him in a sticky mess.

"Hey!" John said as he gently sat beside his son. "Feeling better?" He asked as he ran his fingers through Dean's soaked hair, feeling the coolness of his skin.

"Yeah." Dean replied, sounding weak and tired.

"How about you go take a shower and get all this sweat off you?" John suggested, trying to make Dean feel clean and more like himself.

Dean nodded. "I don't…" He stopped, looking around the room.

"You got sick, said you weren't feeling well. So, I pulled over in the first town we came to and you were burning up with a fever. I got you in a cool bath and Bobby gave you some medicine to help bring it down. You slept the entire evening and all night."

Dean nodded his head. He didn't remember, but he didn't have to because his dad had him, he would make sure he was taken care of. With help, Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his feet sat flat on the floor. The sheet covered most of his body still.

"Need me to help you get some clothes?" John questioned, receiving a nod from Dean.

His head felt clearer than it had in a long time, but he still had this confusion and this sense of loss that wouldn't leave him. When he stood he was shaky, weak, John helped him hold his balance to the bathroom. He offered to help him further but Dean denied, which was no surprise to John, but he figured he'd offer anyhow.

Dean stood in front of the mirror. Staring at himself, taking in the reflection that stared back. He looked like death warmed over. The face looking back at him didn't look like his own. It was thin and frail. The deepness of his eyes was broken and sad. There wasn't any life in the features.

There were bruises that covered him, some of them fading into different colors. He removed his bandages, taking in the sight of the injuries that they held. The proof that he was held against his will, he was restrained by, what he couldn't remember, but it looked like it was painful.

A panic rose in him as he removed his boxers. He made sure the door was locked and he was alone. He felt as if someone was going to sneak in on him and hurt him. He didn't think he could handle anymore, even though he couldn't remember exactly what happened, the feelings he had told him he had enough and wouldn't survive another attack.

He stepped into the shower, allowing the water to flush down his body, to wash away everything he hated so much. Sure, the scars and reminders would still be there, but he mentally watched the fear and hurt wash down the drain.

He closed his eyes, only for a moment, when an image flashed behind his closed lids. An image of a man, someone he didn't know, he had evil looking eyes and held a dirty grin that showed his missing teeth beneath his beard and mustache that was untrimmed. The grin said he was about to do something Dean would hate, but the man would love.

Dean gasped, losing his balance and falling to the floor of the tub. He wiped his face with his hands, determined not to let his eyes close again. He could hear his dad knocking on the door, but he couldn't reply. He was okay, he wasn't hurt, he didn't think so anyhow, but he couldn't get his brain to use the words to tell him he was okay.

John broke the door down and rushed to his son's side. He grabbed a towel, covering him. 

"I'm okay. I'm okay." Dean whispered, his eyes a million miles away, his head not connecting with his body. "I'm okay." He repeated.

John helped him stand and get out of the tub. He then, helped him get dressed. He had gotten him a clean pair of boxers, sweatpants, a t-shirt, socks, and the hoodie he had become so fond of. Once he was dressed in everything but the hoodie and socks he helped him back into the room, giving him time to collect himself as he curled into a ball on the bed.

At that moment, he wondered how much worse it could get.


	28. Chapter 28

**CHAPTER 28**

Dean seemed to pull himself back together rather quickly. His dad replaced the bandages and gave him his morning medicine. They started packing their things to continue to Bobby's.

Sam sat beside Dean on the edge of the bed. "You feeling better this morning?"

"Yeah, for the most part, I guess."

"You wanna go out and grab some breakfast? Or would you feel more comfortable if we brought it back to you?"

"I'm not hungry."

"Sure, you are, you're always hungry, besides, when's the last time you actually ate anything?"

Dean just shrugged, he wasn't sure, but his stomach was past the point of wanting any food.

"Come on, Dean, you gotta eat something." Sam said, giving Dean a small nudge with his elbow.

"I'm really not hungry, Sam."

"There's this place that's right down the road, it says it has the best pancakes around!"

"You're not going to give up, are you?"

"Nope!"

Dean sighed. "Look, I just wanna make it back to Bobby's, without getting sick, okay?"

"Okay." Sam sounded heartbroken. "Will you eat when you get to Bobby's?"

Dean looked as Sam and rolled his eyes. "We'll see."

"Dean! You have to eat! This isn't an option. Look I get it, but, damn it! I can't lose you, not like this!" Sam's eyes filled with unshed tears. "We've been through too much for things to just end this way."

"You're not losing me."

"I am if you don't eat."

Dean sighed again. "Fine, I'll try, but I can't guarantee anything. But, not until we get to Bobby's I really don't want to spend the rest of the ride sick."

Sam nodded with a big smile. "Okay!" He reached over and gave Dean a big hug, Dean grimaced in pain but didn't push his brother away. "Thanks, Dean!" He said as he let his brother go.

John and Bobby just shook their heads, laughing to themselves. Sam had heard their conversation the night before and had probably spent most of the night figuring out how to get Dean to eat. Puppy dog eyes and the little brother act and he had Dean eating out of his hands!

"If you two are done with your female moment, how about we get back on the road?" Bobby joked.

"Shut up!" Dean said as he threw a pillow toward the older man, missing him completely.

"Looks like you need to work on your aim." Bobby chuckled.

"Looks like you need to work of your face, my aim was fine, the pillow was just too scared to get near you." Dean joked back.

It was nice, even if it only lasted a minute, the old Dean had showed back up, pushing away all the hardships that they had struggled against.

Dean hated needing help, but at least it was his dad that always seemed to be there to help, Sam stayed back with Bobby. Dean was thankful for that because he wasn't sure if he would be able to handle all three of them fussing over him. John sent Sam and Bobby on their way before he helped Dean to the car. Another small way of keeping Dean's dignity and pride.

"You ready for this? We only have four or five hours till we get there."

"Yeah, I feel a lot better today."

John nodded his head as he closed Dean's door.

"If you get to feeling bad again, you let me know, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

Dean sat quiet, there was something he wanted to say, but wasn't sure how to say it. He sat, chewing on his bottom lip, his mind working overtime. His hands were trembling in his lap. Then, they became restless, picking at anything he could find, rubbing his sweaty palms against his pants.

"Something eating at you?" John asked after Dean showed no signs of settling down.

"I… I don't know." Dean said, shyly.

"Well, what is it?"

"I… I feel like… like I need… something… but, I… I don't know what."

"Something as in? You gotta give me a little more than that."

Dean chewed on the edge of his fingernail. "Something to… make me feel better? To… take this… edge off… take these feelings away."

"You going through cravings?"

Dean looked at his dad confused. His knee was bouncing and his fingernails were being chewed down as far as he could.

"The drugs that they gave you. Doc said you'd go through a stage where you would crave them, need them in your system in order to function properly."

"I don't even know what they gave me, so how could I crave them?"

"That's why you said you feel like you need something but not sure what."

"I'm not a druggy, Dad."

"No one said you were, son. You were just given a lot against your will, and now your body is suffering from the effects of not having them."

"So, then, how do I make it go away?"

"Besides filling your need? You don't. You just gotta give it some time to work its way out of your system."

"I…I feel like that's all I've heard lately, just give it time, how much damn time do I need to keep giving?"

"As much as it takes."

"What if I can't?"

"You can, that's what we're here for, to help you through those rough spots when you feel like you can't."

"So… can we do anything to take care of my need?"

"You mean buy some drugs? Hell no! There's no way I'm going to allow that, it may be hard, but you're not taking that road, son. That road is harder than giving it time."

"Just a little? Just to help out, right now?"

"NO! Trust me, you don't want that."

"Yes, I do!"

"You may think you do, but you really don't."

"How would you know? You ever been where I'm at right now?"

"No."

"Then you don't know what the hell I want or don't want."

"I know you want this feeling to go away, I know you want whatever memories have started coming back, the visions, the nightmares, you want them to go away, and even though you may not remember it, you know they kept you drugged and it kept you from remembering anything, from knowing what the hell was going on, and you want that back. You want the feeling of not knowing, the feeling of not hurting, and you think the drugs are your answer for that."

Dean sat quietly, his dad was right. That's exactly what he wanted. "I just need a break from this." He said quietly with his head hung down.

"I know you do, I know it can't be easy, and it just keeps getting harder. But, you're one hell of a fighter and you've got a family who has your back."

"I don't want to fight anymore." Dean confessed, feeling ashamed of his confession.

"So, what you gonna do then? Just lay down and give up? Stop eating until you die from starvation? That'll take a while, you realize that, right? It'll be at least another couple of weeks of misery and weakness until you're unable to do anything but lay in bed and use the bathroom all over yourself, forcing everyone else, including your brother, to clean you."

Dean sighed, he couldn't do that to them.

"Or, are you just going to run away again? Hope this time you don't survive whatever crap you find yourself in. Hope that we don't go looking for you and stumble upon your rotten, decayed, corpse."

"Okay, I get it."

"Do you? Because if you chose to find some drugs to take the need away, to make you feel better, you're just going to end up the same as someone on the streets, maybe, if you're lucky you'll find some women willing to pay or exchange sex for drugs, but I'd bet you'll mostly only find other men, because that's what happens out there. But, don't worry, a quick fix and you'll forget how terrible you feel about it. If you're lucky, you'll catch some disease that will cut your life short so you won't have to live a long miserable life."

"I said I get it, okay?"

"Dean, you need to fight, right now more than ever. I know it may seem easier to just give up, but you have a little brother counting on you."

"I know."

"He's been sitting in the shadows watching everything. He's been worried sick about you. He's managed to close himself off from the rest of us, the only person he's really talked to is you, and you know how little that's been. He needs you. He needs to know you're going to be okay."

"What if I'm not going to be okay?"

"Then you admit it, you be honest. Because, anything you feel like you can't accomplish, we'll be there to help you. You feel like this is too much, that you can't pull out of it, that you won't be okay? You have every right to feel that way, but that doesn't mean we aren't going to be there, holding you up and pushing you into a better place."

"I don't want that."

"Some days you may not, but eventually you will."

Dean sighed and laid his head against the window. He needed this conversation to be over. He had reached his limit on concentration and felt exhausted. The only thing he wanted was to sleep. To actually sleep. Sleep and never wake up would be good. But, if he could find something to give him that feeling he was needing, then he could sleep without nightmares and voices and visions, and all the feelings that seemed to overtake his body.

He needed a way that wouldn't traumatize his brother. Maybe if he took all of his medications at the same time, emptied the bottles, no one would know, and he could go to sleep and never wake. But, Dad kept them and kept a close eye on them, he didn't know if he could get them from him, then he would have to figure out how to dispose of the bottles and would probably be too out of it to think straight, so he'd have to dispose of the bottles first. Take the medication at night while Sammy slept. But the only thing is, he would wake to find his brother dead, he couldn't do that to him either.

Maybe, if he took them all, and then made a contraption in the junk yard where he could make several cars fall on him, then Bobby would be the one to find him and they would think it was an accident. Yeah, that sounded like a better plan. Then, there was still the hunting idea, but he would have to find a hunt and convince the others to let him go, he didn't think that would be a possibility anytime soon.

Poison, he was sure Bobby had poison around the house. If he could find it and sprinkle it on his food then he would make them all happy because he'd be eating but it would also be killing him, which he'd be fine with. The only problem is he wouldn't know who would find him, or how they would find him. He didn't like that idea. He had to make sure his brother was safe from any trauma it would cause.

He could still always take the coward way out, slice his wrists, his dad would be the one to find him, he was sure of that, because his dad seemed to keep a close eye on him and if he was in the tub too long he would check on him, breaking the door down, and finding him in a tub of red water. But, Dad might scream and Sam would come and see and he didn't want that. This was harder than he thought it would be. But, he had to make sure he executed the perfect plan to protect Sammy.

Lost in his thoughts he hadn't realized they had made it to Bobby's. John placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, gently bringing him back to the present.

"You gonna stay in the car all day?" John asked.

Dean reached for the door handle, and John quickly exited his side and made his way to Dean's door. Helping him gather his balance before releasing the door. Dean stumbled within the first couple steps and John reached out, keeping him upright.

"You need to get some food in you, get your strength built back up." John suggested.

Dean rolled his eyes. "So I've been told."

John just gave Dean a slight pat on the shoulder his hand was resting on to give Dean the support he needed.

"The second half of the trip go better?" Bobby questioned as John and Dean made their way into the house.

"Yeah, we didn't have to stop." John chuckled, releasing Dean as he sunk into the nearby chair.

"You feeling alright, boy?" Bobby asked Dean. He didn't look the same as this morning.

"Peachy!" Dean said sarcastically as he stood and attempted to make his way to the stairs. He didn't want to be around anyone, he just wanted to be drugged up, to forget life. He had taken about three steps and started tipping forward, reaching out for anything that could help him stay upright.

John was there in an instant, his arms around his son, keeping his face from meeting the floor.

"Whoa there, Buddy." John exclaimed as he grabbed his son.

"Looks like someone needs some food in them." Sam couldn't help but put his two cents into it as he walked out of the kitchen.

"Leave me alone, Sam." Dean pleaded with a weakened voice.

"Nope! You promised me."

"Yeah, well unless you've laced the food with some of the good shit from the streets, I'd suggest you leave me the hell alone right now!" Dean sounded irritated, pissed, he didn't want to do anything but curl up in the darkness and be left alone.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Sam spat back.

"It means." Dean turned to look at his brother. "To leave me the hell alone."

"I got that part, and that's not going to happen, not until I see you eat something, I meant lacing it with the good shit part."

"Nothing, Sam, just forget it." Dean sounded defeated, his head lowered. "Can you give me a few, please?"

"No, you promised!"

Dean sighed and pushed himself away from his dad. "Fine, bitch!" He used the furniture and walls to help keep him upright until he collapsed in the chair at the table. Sam was smiling a smug grin as he sat a bowl of vegetable soup and some bread in front of him.

"What the hell is this?"

"Nutrition, and something that should be pretty easy on your stomach."

Dean rolled his eyes as Sam sat in the chair beside him with his own bowl of soup. Together the brothers sat in silence, eating. Sam was eating as normal as he could while keeping an eye on Dean. Dean seemed uninterested and stirred the liquid more than he ate it. He did manage to get down about five bites before his stomach started disagreeing with the solid liquid that was put in it.

"I can't." Dean practically whispered as he pushed the bowl away and laid his head on the table in front of him.

"It's okay, at least you tried. Next time might be a little better." Sam comforted him with a gentle hand on his back. "You gonna be sick?"

"Trying not to."

Sam nodded, keeping his hand on his brother's back. "Want me to help you upstairs?"

Dean nodded.

"Okay, come on." Sam said as he helped his brother stand from the chair and allowed him to lean on him as they made the way to the stairs. Dean pushed away from Sam as he reached for the stair rails and used them to pull himself up the steps. At the end, Sam was there to finish helping him the rest of the way to his bed.

"I don't know if I can do this." Dean admitted as he sat on the edge of his bed, leaning his body sideways against the pillows and headboard.

"Hey, it's just going to –"

"Take some time, yeah I know!"

"I'm sorry. I wish I had something better to tell you, but I don't. I don't know what to do or how to help."

"Just let me die." Dean mumbled as he closed his eyes.

"Dean!"

"Sorry, I'm just exhausted, Sam. I don't feel so great. I'm… I don't know… wanting the drugs or whatever they used to fuck me up with, and I don't know why, because I really don't want them, I just want all this feelings and crap to go away. I don't want to keep having visions of things I don't understand every time I close my eyes. I'm just tired, Sam. I'm worn out and I don't want to fight anymore, not right now."

"Okay, then you rest, you don't have to fight, I'll do the fighting for you. I'll make sure you make it through this, one way or another." Sam said as he lifted Dean's legs onto the bed.

Dean closed his eyes and allowed himself to drift away from the life he didn't want anymore.

Sam made his way back downstairs. This felt all too familiar and he wasn't prepared to go back through this again. But, this time it was different. He wasn't involved in the trauma, this was all on his brother, but there was no way he was going to allow his brother to stop fighting.

"He alright?" John asked, concern filling his voice.

Sam shrugged. "He's ready to give up, says he doesn't wanna fight anymore. Needs a fix that he doesn't know what it is."

"Yeah, he told me the same thing, he wants the stuff they gave him to make to world go away, but even if we were willing to get it for him, we don't know what it was."

"Yeah, well I'll be damned if I help my brother become a drug addict!"

"I never said we were going to help him become a drug addict. We just gotta help support him and keep him calm while he's going through this. Gotta understand it's not going to be easy on him and he'll probably have some moody days."

"What else is new?" Sam chuckled.

"He sleeping?" Bobby asked.

"Yeah."

"Think maybe we should take shifts and keep an eye on him?"

"Why?" Sam was confused why they would need to watch his brother sleep.

"Oh, I don't know, maybe to make sure he don't try something stupid. He's not exactly working with a full deck right now. That and those damned nightmares, we need to try to keep those under control too, they'll wear 'ya out quicker than anything."

"Bobby's right." John agreed.

"Isn't that like breaking trust in him and taking away his privacy, or something like that?" Sam questioned.

"Does it matter? As long as your brother's safe, I'd be willing to do just about anything." John replied.

"Yeah, okay." Sam agreed. "The thing is, if he wakes up and everyone is in the room he's going to know something's up, so I'll go back up there, read a book or something."

John and Bobby both nodded their heads. Sam made his way into the library, gathered a few books and a drink from the kitchen, and made his way upstairs to his brother.

Dean did his normal tossing and turning in his sleep, wrapping his covers tightly around him. Only, Sam noticed he seemed weaker than normal, like he didn't have the energy to move around too much. The movements were replaced by his moaning and groaning while he slept. The visions and tangled nightmares filling his dreams.

He was exhausted, even in his sleep he felt exhausted. He didn't have life left in him. All he wanted to do was sleep and not wake up, to have life, for once, give him the break he needed. The physical pain seemed to intensify as he dreamt of things happening, things he didn't remember while he was awake. Screams of pain littered his ears. He noticed not all the screams came from him, not all the crying and tears were his either. But he couldn't remember who they belonged to.

He just wanted them to give him the good stuff, the stuff to make him forget, to make him lifeless and painless. He didn't care about anything else. Just wanted the drink that made everything better. He wasn't so ready for it while he was there, in fact he fought against it, but now, that seemed to be the only thing he wanted.

If he couldn't get the good stuff, then maybe he could at least drink it all away? An image flashed in his head.

 _He was laying on the dirty mattress. The smell too real, the smell of death mixed with old copper blood and sex and sweat and urine and feces. The smell that would make anyone run from this place. But he couldn't run, neither could the man who was lying beside him._

 _Dean looked over at him as a man walked into the room and approached the one lying beside him. Dean looked into his eyes and saw death, he knew the man didn't have much time to live, and he couldn't let him go out like that._

" _Hey, asshole!" Dean spoke to the man who entered._

" _I know you're not speaking to me! Especially without permission, slave." The man replied, drawing his attention to Dean and away from the other man._

" _Yeah, yeah I am. How about you pick on someone your own size? Someone who has a chance, instead of the easy ones?" Dean was already regretting his outburst._

" _First, you know not to speak unless you're given permission." The man pressed an electric taser against Dean's side, making him cry out in pain. He removed it and pressed it against him in a different spot. "Second, what the hell makes you think you have a chance in hell? You saying you ain't gonna be easy? You're not gonna give it up to me? Well we'll just have to see about that, won't we?" He pressed the taser to Dean's body with each statement he made, causing him to cry out in pain._

 _The man grabbed a rope and tightened it around Dean's neck, allowing him to breath only when he wanted him to. Dean tried to put up a fight but knew it was pointless from the beginning. Once he had no choice but to give up and submit, due to the pain the man was inflicting, Dean laid with his head turned toward the man beside him._

 _Dean's eyes full of regret and apology. He laid there while he was abused and raped, his full attention on the man beside him, as he watched his eyes close and take his last breath._

 _Dean sighed with sadness but was thankful the man didn't have to die while being put through hell._


	29. Chapter 29

**CHAPTER 29**

Dean startled awake with a scream for someone to stop something, his body covered in sweat. The covers were restraining him, causing panic he wasn't sure how to handle.

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Sam soothed him. "You just got your covers wrapped around you, I'm going to get them untangled, okay?"

Dean nodded, his body trembling, his stomach tying itself into knots. His breathing was labored. His forehead and hair were dripping with sweat. It wasn't even hot in the room, but his body was reacting to something that wasn't in the room.

Sam continued to sooth his brother while he untangled the blankets that had wrapped around him, completely removing them from on top of him, making him feel the least restricted that he could.

John, hearing the commotion made his way into the room. He watched and listened to what Sam was saying and doing, taking notice of Dean's need to not be restrained.

"Everything okay in here?" John asked as he made his way to Dean's side.

"He just had a nightmare and got his covers tangled around him, I'm just helping him not feel restrained." Sam said, keeping his voice calm, as he pulled the last of the covers from his brother.

John nodded at Sam, returning his attention to Dean. "You okay there?"

Dean closed his eyes, trying to slow his heart and calm his breathing. But the vision of the dying man flashed behind his eyelids and his eyes flew back opened. Fear lacing the edges of his features. He wiped the sweat off his face, and remained silent, not sure what answer to give his dad.

Was he okay? Hell no, he wasn't okay. Was he okay for that moment? No, not really. Was it only a nightmare? Yes. Was anyone hurting him at that moment? No. So, he figured in a sense he was okay, but not really, because he couldn't get that memory, that image out of his head. Those dying eyes that looked back at him, the eyes that closed as he took his last breath.

"I… I watched him die." Dean choked out in a quiet, cracked voice.

"Who?" John asked.

"I don't know, I don't know his name, he was there… with me… beside me… I watched him die."

"The detective said someone in the room you were in had passed away."

Dean nodded his head. "He was beside me, on one of the… beds, mattresses? I guess. I… there was this man… he was going to… to… he was heading for him… but that look in his eyes… it said he wasn't going to last much longer. I couldn't let him die, not like that. I'm not even completely sure what 'that' was, but I couldn't, I just couldn't."

Dean started letting his tears fall, his brokenness showed with the newly found memories.

"It's okay, son, take your time." John held him against his chest, his arm wrapped around his back and his head resting on his shoulder.

"I did what I had to. I got his attention away from him and onto me. I fought him. I knew I wouldn't have a chance, but I had to give that other guy a chance. While he… the… man… while he… did his thing… I laid there… and watched him… his eyes… I could see the life leave them as he took his last breath." Dean started sobbing, "I watched him die! I did everything I could, I couldn't let him die in the hell that they inflicted."

"Hey." John tightened his hold on his oldest son. "You did good, you did exactly the way you were trained, and it's okay, you let that man die in what little peace he could have, you did good."

Dean leaned against his dad, his body shaking, tears running down his face. "I don't feel like I did." His voice cracked with the tears.

"Trust me, you did, and you can feel proud about it too, I know I'm beyond proud of you. You take one hell of a beating from life and keep on fighting. I know, right now, you may not feel like fighting, but you still are."

"I just… Dad, I don't want to live anymore. I just want to be done with everything."

"That's not an option, now is it?"

"Yes, it is."

"Dean!" Sam was shocked at his brother's response. John raised his hand toward Sam, telling him to cool it, to let him handle it.

"And, how is it an option?"

Dean shrugged. "There's several ways I've thought of, but I haven't completely figured out how to keep Sammy from being too traumatized and you from being disappointed in me."

"Dean, I would never be disappointed in you, no matter what. But, I think if you were to leave this life, there's no way your brother isn't going to be traumatized, rather its intentional or not, it's going to break him."

Dean closed his eyes, trying to shut out the world for a moment when the dying eyes reappeared behind his eyelids. He quickly opened them again, making a mental note to not close his eyes again.

"I need a shower." Dean announced, trying to end the conversation they just had, trying to escape the feelings it brought on.

"You gonna be okay?" John questioned, concerned about leaving Dean alone at the moment.

"I'd be better if someone could hook me up with what I really need, but whatever!" Dean's tone turned angry and irritated. He glanced up at the doorway, planning his escape from the room when he saw Bobby standing there silently. Not speaking, just listening. "Look!" Dean practically shouted. "I don't need a damn babysitter, okay?"

He pushed himself off the bed, grabbing the dresser beside him to hold his balance.

"But, you might need someone to hold you upright." Sam noted.

"I'm fine! Okay! I'm just freakin' peachy! I can handle shit on my own, I don't need anyone!"

"Unless we're going to allow you to become a drug addict?"

"Whatever, Sammy, just shut up!"

"Well, that's not going to happen, so you might as well forget it!"

"What? You shutting up? Yeah, trust me, I've lived with you my whole life, I know that'll never happen."

"No, smartass, any of us helping you get drugs."

"I said shut up!"

"Whatever, Jerk."

"Bitch!"

Dean fumbled around, finding some clean clothes as he argued with his brother, then pushed past him and Bobby, using the wall to help hold him upright. He was never so thankful to finally be alone in the bathroom. The door closed and locked, no one shooting words at him, no one touching him. He knew they were only trying their best, but he couldn't even process what was going on in his own mind. He didn't need everyone else's minds mixing with his.

He turned the water on as cold as it would go and stepped under it. His body was breaking out in a sweat, but it was shivering under the need for something more. He tried to distract his mind, tried to relieve himself of the cravings, but it didn't seem to help. Nothing seemed to help. Maybe everyone was right, maybe it was going to take some time? Time, he didn't want to give. He needed this to be instant, to take everything away without time.

Once his body was freezing cold, the sweats replaced with shivers he stepped out of the shower. He dressed himself, nearly losing his balance several times, and made his way out of the bathroom. Looking in his room he saw it was empty, so he made his way downstairs where is dad sat on the couch.

Without a word he hesitantly sat on the couch beside his dad and gave him the bandages he needed put back in place. Dean was tired of constantly feeling like his bandages needed replacing, but if he could stop waking up in sweats then he wouldn't need so many showers. John didn't even react in anyway but normal as he started to bandage his son's ribs, wrists, and ankle. Noticing they were healing some, but not as well as expected. He was sure it had something to do with the lack of nutrition in his body.

"You know, if you want these to heal faster, you need to eat something. They aren't going to heal if there's nothing in your body to heal them." John pointed out.

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his dad was right, he was always right, but Dean didn't want to get sick like he had before.

"Can you tell me something?" John asked.

Dean looked up at him, waiting for the question.

"Why don't you want to eat? And don't bullshit me."

Dean dropped his head, his hands laid in his lap, his fingers twisting around themselves. "I don't want to get sick." He simply stated.

"What does it matter? You've gotten sick before, and it was cleaned up and you felt better. It's not a big deal, we'll handle it if it happens."

"I…" Dean's voice was shy and timid. "I don't want to… I… if I get sick… I don't want to be… punished."

He stumbled over every word that came out of his mouth. He knew he was with his family. He knew he wasn't going to be hurt or punished, but the fear was still there, somewhere, somehow, it had gotten stuck in his head and he couldn't seem to get rid of it.

"You're not going to be punished, or hurt, you're safe now."

"I know, but… I still… it still scares me." Dean confessed, not able to lift his head, not able to look at his dad through his shame.

"Hey." John said as he grabbed a hold of his son's chin, lifting his face to look at him. "It's okay, it might take a while for you to completely realize you're safe and have nothing to fear, or that fear might always be in the back of your head, somewhere. But, I'm telling you, right now, at this moment, you have nothing to worry about. No one is going to hurt you, and we actually expect you to get sick the first few times you eat, your stomach isn't used to having anything in it. But, son, you have to eat, or you're going to die, just like that man beside you did."

Dean's eyes filled with tears. He didn't want to think about him, didn't want to think about dying the way he did.

"But, Sammy…" Dean couldn't finish his thought.

"Yeah, Sammy is going to be beyond devastated if that happens. So, what you going to do about it?"

Dean shrugged. "I… I won't get punished? Even if… if I get sick?"

"You won't get punished for anything, I promise."

Dean nodded, allowing the words to sink into his head, allowing himself to believe he was safe. He's with his family, it should be easier than this. He shouldn't feel the fear that he had. But, something was keeping him from feeling completely safe, from totally believing what everyone was telling him.

"Time." Dean whispered to himself. "Gonna take time."

"Here, kid, why don't you eat a sandwich? It shouldn't be too hard on your stomach." Bobby suggested as he stood in front of Dean, holding out a sandwich he had prepared for him.

Dean took it. "Thanks." He mumbled.

His hands were trembling. If he ate and got sick he would be punished, if he didn't eat and disobeyed then he would be punished, either way, he was doomed for punishment. Which would be worse? Disobeying would definitely be worse. If he got sick, it might be grosser, but not as painful.

He took a small bite, trying to satisfy everyone but himself. Food wasn't what he wanted. He wanted something so much more! Something that would help shut his mind off. He tried to stand, to make his way to the fridge but barely made it past standing before his weakness got the best of him.

"Where you think you're going to?" John asked.

"To get a beer."

"You think that's best right now?"

"No, I'd prefer whiskey, or something stronger, but I'll take what I can get."

"And how is that going to work for you not getting sick?"

"It'll help make all the crap in my head slow down."

"How about we make sure we keep the food down before adding alcohol."

Dean rolled his eyes and huffed. He had already had so much of his life that seemed to be taken from him, so many of his own decisions made for him, this was just one more to add to the list.

Bobby sat in a chair across from Dean, he made sure Dean knew he was watching him, paying attention to what he ate. Dean thought maybe the whole poison in his food didn't sound like a bad idea after all. He tried to finish after a couple bites, but Bobby insisted he continued to eat. The way Bobby figured, if he had enough food in his stomach when he got sick, then he would only vomit part of it, which would leave some to do its job.

Half way through his sandwich Dean started feeling flush, he could tell he was going to get sick. He scrunched his face, cover his hand over his eyes. "I can't." He pleaded with Bobby.

"You need to finish that sandwich." Bobby insisted.

Dean drew in a deep breath, trying to keep what he had already eaten in its place. He moved his hand from his face and rubbed it against the back of his neck, willing the flush feeling to go away.

John went to his side, trash can in hand for when he needed it. It tore at his heart to see his son suffer so much, especially over something as simple as eating. But, he knew it was necessary, and he knew Bobby was the best one for the job. The way Dean would scrunch is face in discomfort and hold his breath to keep from vomiting, and the beads of sweat that formed on his forehead and neck would have had John and Sam giving in a long time ago. But Bobby had the ability to look past all the emotional mumble jumble and take care of what was needed.

¾ of his sandwich was eaten when he dropped it from his hands. He placed his elbows on his knees and held his head in his hands. He tried hard to keep from allowing the food from coming back up. He fought against the heaviness of his stomach, the twisting and turning that was going on inside.

He wiped the beads of sweat from his face and stopped with his hand covering his mouth. This was a battle he wasn't going to win, but he'd be damned if he gave up without a fight.

His head started spinning, he stopped being able to concentrate, he dropped to his knees on the floor. John was there instantly, trash can under him as he released the food he fought so hard to keep in. It was worse than he could ever remember it being. He was pretty sure vomiting never made him feel this miserable before.

He managed to stop himself before the dry heaves started, leaving at least a little food in his system. He fell back onto his heals, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'm sorry. I tried." He confessed with shame.

"It's okay. I told you we expected that to happen, next time won't be as bad." John reminded him.

All Dean wanted to do was lay down, he didn't care where he was, he rolled his side against the chair and rested his head on the seat with his eyes closed.

"You good?" John asked, rubbing his hand up and down Dean's back.

"I… don't… wanna… move." Dean drew deep breaths between each word.

"It's okay, you don't have to." John assured him.

His heart was shattered watching his son in such a miserable situation. He knew he would feel better if he could start eating again and gaining some energy, but it was going to be a working progress. It wasn't going to happen overnight. The tough part is going to be keeping Dean fighting until he can regain his strength.

Dean allowed his body to go limp and fall to the floor, his back against the chair. He didn't want to move, didn't want to fight, he was worn out. He was tired. He just needed a break from everything. A break he never seemed to get. Why couldn't it be easier than this to just let go and leave this life? Why did dying have to be so hard? If he could, he would just let himself go, let himself die, but he couldn't seem to do that.

"Dad, I just want it to stop." Dean had never sounded so desperate in his life.

"I know, son, I know. I do too. But, you gotta fight your way out of this slump in order to reach the top. It will get better, you just gotta take it one step at a time."

Dean shook his head. "It never does. Life has always been shitty."

John sighed. Dean was right. His life always seemed to be hard on him, he never got to see the good in it. He made sure Sam saw the good, he made sure his little brother was sheltered from the worst of life. He even made sure his dad had the support he needed, the care he required to make his life a little easier. But, Dean didn't get the care he needed. He wasn't sheltered from anything. He faced life head on, pushing his way through the toughest of situations.

Dean laid on the floor and had fallen asleep. His body worn out from just existing. John lifted his son and carried him upstairs. His body was way too light, he should have been heavier if he had the proper nutrition and muscle mass. He laid Dean in bed, covering him with a sheet and wiping his hand through his son's hair.

He remembered Dean being so young. He would come home late and find his oldest son lying in John's bed or on the couch, he had fallen asleep waiting for his dad to come home. He was so innocent. If Dean was on the couch, John would pick him up and carry him to his bed, making sure he was tucked in. He would give him a small, gentle kiss on his forehead, rub his fingers through his hair, whisper "good night" and head to his own bed.

If Dean had fallen asleep in John's bed, he never had the heart to move him. He would let him stay, lying next to him, he often embraced his son. Taking the small moment to remember what it felt like to be a father again.

Since those small moments in time, this was the first time he had been a father to his sons, especially to Dean. Sure, he would come around, but the older they got, the less they would see him. Dean really was forced into being both parents and a brother for his brother. John knew it wasn't fair. He just wished he would have realized it before now. Before it was too late.

He bent over, giving Dean a gentle kiss on the forehead, rubbing his fingers back through his son's hair. "Good night, son." He whispered before giving another long look at his son and walking out of the room.


	30. Chapter 30

**CHAPTER 30**

Dean regretted the day as soon as his eyes opened. In fact, he couldn't remember a morning he regretted waking up to more than this one. He laid in bed thinking of the night before. How miserable he felt being forced to eat until he vomited. He knew this day would just bring harsher feelings.

It wasn't the fact he didn't want to eat. He honestly didn't care about that. He just wished it didn't make him feel so sick. He hated feeling as weak as he did. He wanted to be able to walk without needing to hold on to items or walls, or even worse, have someone help him walk. His body was betraying his will to live.

He wanted to feel alive again, to be able to make his own decisions and move on his own. He wanted to feel the strength back in his body, to enjoy the food he once loved. He wasn't sure what had changed, why he had no will to eat. He secretly hoped it was due to the fact he hadn't eaten in so long, but before he had decided to run away from the family, before he found himself in his latest predicament, he didn't have an appetite and wasn't eating properly.

He just wanted his old self back. And, he knew there was only one way to get that. He pushed himself off the bed. Sam was in his bed, across from Dean's, still sleeping. The morning light was peeking through the edges of the window coverings. Dean rumbled through his clothes, finding a pair of jeans, t-shirt, and long sleeve flannel shirt. If he was going to feel like himself, he needed to dress like himself. He needed to get out of the sweatpants and hoodies.

He made his way to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He stopped to stare at himself in the mirror.

"You're either going to fight, or give up, there is no in between, not anymore." He told the reflection that stared back at him. "We're done just going through motions without living."

He stepped away from the mirror and into the shower, cleaning away everything he had been holding onto, everything he wanted to let go of washed down the drain. With a new-found strength, he was facing this day with a different attitude. He was facing the day to fight, not lay down and die. He was still physically weak and fought to get his clothes on. It wasn't as easy putting on jeans as it had been sweatpants, but he managed.

Stopping to look in the mirror again before exiting the bathroom, he stood, holding onto the sink, and stared at the broken reflection. "You…"

Dean started speaking to the person staring back at him. "No longer control me. You aren't going to take me down! You aren't going to ruin my life! If I go down, I go down fighting, the way it's always been. You're not taking me away from Dad, and you're sure as hell not taking me away from Sammy! You may be garbage, a weak failure, the lowest of the low, but I'M NOT!" Dean shouted as he threw his fist into the mirror.

Glass shattered, coating the sink that was holding Dean up. Blood poured from his fist. The knock on the door sent him spinning back into reality as he fumbled to open it.

"I owe you a new mirror, Bobby."

Was the only thing he said as he pushed past Bobby and his dad. He used the wall and stair rail to help him keep his balance as he made his way down stairs.

John grabbed the first aid kit, shaking his head as him and Bobby rolled their eyes at each other.

"That boy forgets me owes me several mirrors." Bobby sighed as he started cleaning the broken glass.

John made his way downstairs to Dean. He was sitting on the couch, his head in his hands, blood flowing down his arm. John sat beside him, taking a hold of his newly injured hand and started cleaning the blood from it, pulling the shards of glass from his skin.

"Wanna tell me what that was all about?" John asked as he worked on cleaning and stitching his son's hand.

"I'm just tired of the person that seems to always stare back at me."

John just nodded.

"It's not me! I don't know who that person is, but it's not me!" Dean continued. "I can't keep doing this, Dad, I either need to beat this or let it beat me. I can't keep feeling like I'm falling somewhere in the middle, like I'm so damn lost."

John continued working on Dean's hand, moving to his wrists to replace the bandages.

"I just… I can't… I can't look at that person anymore! I can't be that person anymore! I can't… this isn't living, this isn't even existing. This isn't life. I might as well just end it all if I'm going to keep being the person I've been."

By this time Bobby and Sam had both made their way downstairs, hearing Dean's explanation as to why he put his fist through the mirror.

John remained quiet, allowing Dean to say what he needed to say. He obviously had a lot on his mind and a lot he needed to say. A lot he's been holding in that needed to be released into the air.

"I've already figured it out, actually a couple different ways, that would minimize the trauma to Sam and wouldn't leave me a disappointment to you."

"Is that what you really want?" John couldn't just let a comment like that go. His son had mentioned the possibility before, but now he's saying he's thought enough about it that he has come up with the perfect plan, and more than one of them.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "No, not really. But, I don't want to keep feeling the way I do either, I can't keep being that person in the mirror. If that's who I'm going to be, then I don't want to be anyone!"

"So, how about we change that? Get you back to yourself."

"How?"

"Eating, for starters, rather you feel like it or not. Getting your strength back, not spending your days laying around or sleeping."

Dean nodded.

"But, you have to understand it's not going to happen overnight. You're not going to regain your strength and livelihood in one day. This is something we're going to have to work at. This is something that you're going to need to fight through."

"I know." Dean said in an almost whisper.

"Can you hold on for me? Long enough to work through this? Long enough to get some food in you and get your strength back? Before you decide to make a permanent decision?"

"Yeah." Dean hung his head, his voice cracked with the unshed tears and weakness.

"That's my boy." John said as he patted his son on his leg.

"How about we start by working on that food thing. Who's up for some breakfast?" Bobby chimed in.

"I'll help!" Sam said as they both made their way to the kitchen.

"I'm gonna make sure they don't burn the food." John chuckled to Dean as he stood and made his way into the kitchen behind the others.

Bobby and Sam started getting the food prepared, and John sunk against the wall. Tears flowing from his eyes. He allowed his body to slide down the wall and held his face in his hands, crying silent tears, as to make sure Dean didn't hear. That was, by far, the hardest conversation he's ever had with anyone, especially one of his sons.

How could his son even think that? How could he be so close to ending his own life? He had never been the one to give up on anything. Had he fallen so far that he was no longer the fighter he once was? Did he care so little about his family that he could hurt them like that? He said minimize the trauma to Sam, there was no minimizing it. That kid would be lost without his big brother.

Sam gave his dad a few minutes while he helped Bobby. When the food got close to being done he knelt in front of John, placing his hand on his dad's shoulder.

"You okay?"

John wiped the tears from his face and looked up at Sam, seeing the same hurt that he was feeling reflecting in his youngest son's eyes.

"How can I be okay after that conversation?"

"I know." Sam said, his heart breaking with the words of his brother.

"God, Sam, I can't lose him, not like that."

"You're not going to, we're going to keep him fighting, no matter what it takes!"

John gave his son a grin and nod, agreeing with what he had just said. "Damn straight!" No matter what it took he would make sure his son made it through this.

Sam helped John stand and Bobby announced to Dean the food was ready. Even with the announcement, it took John returning to the couch and assisting his son to the table. This was not something Dean was looking forward to, but he knew it was something he needed to do.

John sat the trash can nearby, just in case. Dean poked at his eggs, drawing in a deep breath and forcing a bite down. Giving himself a moment to push around his food on the plate, he figured maybe a bite of pancake would be easier to handle. It wasn't. He still had to force it down with a grimace.

After another bite, "I can't Bobby." Dean sounded defeated. He really wanted to do what everyone wanted him to, but he felt like he was going to vomit and didn't want to feel that miserable.

Bobby stopped and looked at Dean for a moment. "If you don't eat now, you'll be eating again soon."

"I just don't want to throw up." Dean sighed.

Bobby let it go, planning in his head that he would give Dean food again in an hour or two, depending how the morning went, but either way he was going to get the boy back into eating.

Dean sat at the table with the others until they finished. He mostly just pushed his food around with his fork and tried to be physically present even if he couldn't seem to stay there mentally. He did manage another two bites during the time he sat there, it wasn't so bad once the food had a chance to settle, but after the additional two bites he knew if he ate more he was going to vomit everything back up, and that wouldn't do him any good.

"I'll help with the dishes." Sam volunteered once they had all finished eating.

They remained seated and talking even after everyone was done, just to make sure Dean wasn't going to eat another bite, when he showed no signs of eating and pushed his plate away they decided it was time to move on with their morning.

Sam and Bobby cleared the table and washed the dishes while John helped Dean back into the living room. Dean hated someone helping him, even if it was his dad, he would shove them off and support himself against whatever was around the best he could, but John remained at his side to offer assistance as needed.

Dean took the next hour and half and rested on the couch. His dad told him he needed to stay out of his room and away from his bed. But, the weakness only made him tired, so he couldn't help but feel sleepy through the day.

John didn't mind him taking short naps as needed, but he needed to be around life again and not isolated. Plus, after the earlier conversation, John didn't want to let his son out of his sight. He wouldn't be able to live with himself if Dean decided to end his own life and he was able to prevent it.

John, Bobby, and Sam had made an agreement they would keep Dean under a modified suicide watch. Instead of taking shifts they would switch out several times during the day, making sure Dean wasn't aware of their plan and to prevent him from feeling too uncomfortable around them. They also didn't want him getting upset enough to walk away again.

Bobby gently woke Dean; his dad had stepped out to get some fresh air and get a hold of his emotions. Bobby sat beside Dean once he had rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. In Bobby's hand was a bowl of soup and crackers, accompanied by a bottle of water and pills. They always made sure he took his pills first, making sure they had time to get in his system before the possibility of vomiting.

Dean looked at Bobby, not happy about the fact he had brought him food. His stomach still felt heavy from the food he had a couple hours ago. He took the medication without complaining. But gave a dirty look to the food Bobby offered.

"I don't know if I can." Dean confessed.

"You gotta try. It's the only way to get past this, to get your stomach used to food again. You gotta get some meat back on your bones, boy. You need to get your strength back up, and this here is the only way to do it."

Dean sighed and took the food from Bobby. He knew he was right, he hated the fact he was right, but he knew he was. Dean closed his eyes against the thought of being sick. He took the first bite of soup, thankful it went down smoothly, but it still weighed heavy on his stomach.

He gulped, dreading the next bite, but took it without complaining. He still tried to fill his stomach with water, it seemed to settle better even though it didn't offer the nutrient he needed. They started paying closer attention to his water intake. They knew he needed it but couldn't let him fill what little space was in his stomach with liquids.

Dean managed six to seven bites before he started feeling ill, and gaging on the last bite.

"I… I can't right now." He sighed. "I'm sorry, I know you want me to be able to eat as much as before, and I'm trying, I really am. I'm trying to do what I need to, to get my strength back up, but I can't, no matter how much I try."

"Dean, don't you ever think I'm disappointed with you, as long as you're trying, that's all any of us can ask. And, with time, it will get better and easier. Once your stomach gets used to food again it will be more willing to accept it. I mean, think about it, this is the second time you've been able to eat without vomiting it back up."

"Yeah, but it hasn't been much."

"It's a start."

Dean gave a small grin. "Thanks, Bobby."

Bobby patted Dean's shoulder, standing to take his dishes to the kitchen.

"Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Dad said I need to stay around people and try to interact with stuff, but I always feel so tired."

"That's because you don't have what your body needs for energy, we're working on that. It's okay if you need to take another nap, but your pop is right. You need to stay downstairs, around us, and at least reintroduce yourself to life."

Dean nodded, laying back on his side. "Bobby."

"Yeah?"

"Sorry about your mirror earlier."

Bobby chuckled. "Ain't the first one, won't be the last."

Dean just smiled back. Him and Bobby had seen a lot in their lives and somehow Bobby always seemed to be like a dad to him when John wasn't around. He always seemed to understand Dean. A lot more than he ever could Sam.

Dean drifted between awake and asleep for the next hour before Bobby made him get up and eat some more. With an eye roll and groan Dean forced himself to sit up and choked down the few bites he was forced to eat.

"You're acting like your brother, boy." Bobby said, shaking his head at Dean's reaction. "You ain't dying."

"You sure about that?" Dean replied as he made a gagging face with disgust, adding some choking sounds for effect.

John walked behind Dean, slapping him on the back of his head. "Behave yourself, boy."

"Hey, you're supposed to be gentle, I'm dying here." Dean joked with his dad.

"Yeah? Then why your mouth still running?"

"I'm practicing my haunting skills."

John laughed at Dean and Dean chuckled at himself. He had to admit, he was starting to feel better being around the others. He was feeling more human.

It seemed every hour to an hour and a half Bobby was waking Dean up or stopping him from whatever he was doing to force some more food down. He was getting really tired of it, but he had managed to get food in his body without throwing it back up the entire day. It may have only been a few bites at a time, but by the end of the day he had eaten the equivalent to at least a full meal, maybe a meal and a half.

Dinner was spent at the table with the rest of the family. He ate the few bites he could but remained at the table until everyone else was finished. By the time they were done, Dean was feeling exhausted from the events of the day. It wasn't like he actually did anything. But, he had been used to laying around and doing nothing but sleeping. He wasn't used to interacting with others. He wasn't used to having people moving around him and waking him up to make him eat.

Dean just wanted to go to bed. He was ready for the day to be over with. John and Sam cleaned the kitchen and dishes when they were finished, and Bobby made his way to his office library to work on a few things. Dean remained seated at the table. He closed his eyes and lowered his forehead against the table. His arms hung limp against his side.

"You alright?" John questioned, placing his hand on Dean's back and sitting in the chair beside him.

Dean nodded his head without lifting it from the table.

"You sure?"

Dean lifted his head, his eyes half open, and looked at his dad. "Just tired." Exhaustion filled his voice.

"You've done good today."

Dean dropped his head back to the table. "Yeah." He sounded disinterested in what his dad had to say.

"It'll get better. Tomorrow won't be as rough as today was."

"That's what I've heard everyday so far." Dean mumbled, his face pressed against the table top.

"Yeah, I know, and rather you see it or not, you get a little better, a little stronger every day."

Dean just shrugged his shoulders. He still wasn't interested in what his dad had to say. He only wanted to go to his dark, quiet room and sleep.

"I'm going to bed." Dean said as he lifted his head back up.

"Why don't you go lay back on the couch instead?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "What are you doing, babysitting me now?"

"Dean, what the hell do you expect? I mean, you practically admitted you were ready to end your own life this morning."

"Yeah, and?"

"And, I can't lose you like that!"

"I'm not going anywhere, damn! I just want to go to sleep, I'm exhausted and I'm tired of the constant noise around me, I just want to go to my dark, quiet room and freaking sleep!"

"Hey, you're my son, that's never going to change, no matter what. And, it's my job to take care of you and keep you safe. If that means I have to dedicate the rest of my life to watch you every second of every day, then that's what I'll do, until I feel like you're safe enough to not need me."

"I'm fine, dad."

"Are you?"

"I don't know. I just know I'm tired right now."

"Okay." John patted Dean on his back.

"Come on, Dean, I'm ready for bed too!" Sam said, tapping Dean's shoulder. "I'll save you from Dad's watchful eye." He chuckled.

Dean rolled his eyes and pushed himself to a standing position. Thankful his dad was standing beside him to keep him from faceplanting the floor. His head started spinning and his vision went blurry. He closed his eyes as he let his dad hold him upright. Nausea started rising through his stomach and chest, his breath labored. He felt flush as the color drained from his face.

His legs gave out as his knees turned to jelly. John lowered him to the floor, resting his body in his arms. Dean kept his eyes closed, not fighting against his dad's actions. He trusted him to take care of him while his mind spun.

Dean's body started to tremble and it took about five minutes before Dean opened his eyes again, his trembling slowing down and drawing in a deep breath. He felt draggy. He didn't know what just happened. He only knew he was feeling exhausted but didn't expect his body to react the way it did when he stood up. The color returned to his face as he laid on the floor. His vision started to clear and his mind felt like it was working again. His skin still felt flush and the nausea was still there.

He tried to push himself up but fell back against his dad's arms. His head felt limp, like it was too heavy for him to hold up on his own. He swallowed down the saliva that was threatening to bring the vomit with it. He closed his eyes again, grasping tightly to his dad's left arm as his entire body tightened. With his muscles loosening again, it slumped against the right side of his dad's body.

"I'm gonna –" Was all Dean managed to get out before the vomit rose in the back of his throat and ran down his chin, unto his chest. He didn't even have the ability to actively vomit, he couldn't get his stomach muscles to do what they needed to.

John rolled him onto his side, holding his head up, as he choked on the vomit he breathed into his lungs. He was gasping for air, the way a fish would if it was out of water. Dean's eyes rolled into the back of his head and his body went completely limp, lifeless, unresponsive, before he completely stopped breathing and the convulsions started.


	31. Chapter 31

**CHAPTER 31**

When Dean woke up he was laying on his left side, a towel placed on the floor under his head to soak up the vomit that was drooling from his mouth. His entire body was shaking, his jaw clenched tight. He was confused, his vision still fuzzy. His jeans were wet from the involuntary release of his bodily functions.

He drew in deep, ragged breaths, filling his oxygen starved lungs. He fluttered his eyes open, unable to hold them open for longer than a short moment. His body trembled and ached. There were some voices but they sounded muffled, he couldn't understand anything. It sounded like his head was under water. He felt like he could have been under water. His hair, face and neck were covered in a mixture of sweat and vomit that soaked the collar of his shirt and ran down his chest.

Slowly his mind started working, his hearing became clearer. His vision, still slightly foggy. He reached out for something to grab, something to make him feel grounded, instead of feeling like he was floating in a water filled cloud.

He grabbed onto his dad's arm, it was the first solid thing his, still trembling, hand located. John brushed the fingers of his other hand through his son's hair, waiting for him to come back around. Waiting for him to acknowledge what had just happened.

Dean drew in a hitched breath, releasing it with a groan as he tried to move his body, unable to get anything to cooperate with his mind. It seemed to take a lifetime, but in reality, it was only a couple minutes as he managed to get his mind and body to function as one.

Wiping his face, and the vomit filled drool from the corner of his mouth, he attempted to sit up. John was there, instantly helping him and supporting his body.

"Wwwwhh…." Dean looked confused, trying to figure out where he was or what was going on.

"You had a seizure." John informed him, leaving Dean even more confused.

"What?"

"Your body is going through a lot right now, and between the cravings for the drugs, getting food back in your system, and the fact your body is fighting to be active again, didn't mix in your brain too well. Got all the wires mixed up."

Dean's body shivered as it tried to go back to its normal function.

"You good now?" Bobby asked, kneeling down beside them.

Dean looked at him confused. "I… I think so…"

"Do you know where you're at?"

"Yeah, your junkie place."

"Watch your tongue boy!" Bobby chuckled. "Let's see if you can stand, and get you cleaned up."

Dean nodded, agreeing he needed to change his clothes and probably shower.

Bobby, Sam and John helped him stand and keep his balance while his head stopped spinning.

"Come on." John said. "I'll help you get cleaned up."

He helped Dean to the bathroom, still confused and a little disoriented. Sam gathered him some clean clothes, his sweats and a t-shirt, and brought them to the bathroom while John turned on the shower and helped Dean get undressed.

He was still dazed, not sure what he was supposed to do once John had gotten him in the shower. John, for the first time in 22 years, washed his son, helped him clean himself in the shower, made sure his hair was clean and completely rinsed. It was a simple fatherly act that made John wonder if he had properly cared for his son, this way, when he was younger if it would have saved them from having to do it now, and for these reasons. Once they were done, he helped his oldest son dress again and walked him to his room.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, a dead stare in his eyes. John sat beside him and Sam sat on the edge of his bed, across from Dean.

"You okay there, kid?" John asked Dean.

Dean turned and looked, confused, at his dad. "I… I don't know… I feel… I feel confused."

"That's normal after having a seizure. It'll get better."

"I just remember not feeling well. I felt really tired. And then I… I don't know… I got dizzy and I don't really remember anything else."

"Yeah, when you stood up you got dizzy and I grabbed a hold of you, then you completely collapsed on me, you started throwing up then you went unresponsive and had a seizure."

Dean wiped his face with his hand. "So much for getting better, huh?"

"Hey, you're still getting better, this is all just part of it. Whatever the hell they gave you, it messed you up pretty bad. It seems its taking a little longer than normal to get completely out of your system. Probably because your metabolism is down, but also a lot of that stuff will stick with you for years, or a life time even."

He paused to make sure Dean was still concentrating on his words. "There will be certain times you'll find your body just craving it for what seems like no reason at all. You may even find certain things will trigger a craving or a physical reaction from the cocktail of who knows what that was put in your body. It's really hard to tell exactly what to expect since we don't know what you were given. But, it wouldn't surprise me if you end up having another episode like tonight, it's just all part of recovering."

Dean shook his head in frustration. "Is it worth it?"

John took a gentle hold of Dean's face, pulling it up to look at his brother who was sitting across from him, watching, listening, and speechless. "Is he worth it?"

"Yeah." Dean didn't even hesitate with his answer.

"Okay, then there's your answer."

Dean nodded, still looking at Sam. He noticed the fear in his brother's eyes, the confusion and uncertainty of the recent events.

"Come here." Dean said to Sam.

Sam stood and sat beside his big brother. Dean reached his arm out and wrapped it around Sam, pulling him closer, letting him rest his head on Dean's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Sammy." He whispered. "I know this can't be any easier for you than it is me. But, we'll both get through this, it's just going to take some time. Right?"

"Yeah." Sam replied, fighting back the tears he wanted to let go.

"I need you. I need you to help me fight, to get through this, to remind me it's worth it. Got it?"

"Okay." A stray tear ran from Sam's eye and down his cheek.

Dean reached his other hand and wiped the tear away before it dripped off Sam's chin.

"I'm scared, Sammy. I really am! I don't understand what's going on. I don't understand why it's going on. I'm scared to be alone because I have so much crazy stuff going through my head, at times I can't even trust myself."

"You don't need to be scared, I'm here, like I've always been. I've got you, even if you don't have yourself."

"That's my boy!" Dean said with pride, fluffing up his brother's long hair. "I'm tired as hell and feel like shit, how about we lay down and get some sleep?"

"Sounds good!"

"Okay you two, get some rest, I'll see you in the morning, night." John said, knowing Dean would be okay for the night and Sam would make sure of it. The sudden change in Dean's attitude was John's clue to end the conversation and leave the boys alone.

"Night, Dad." The brothers said at the same time.

Once their dad had left the room and closed the door, Sam pulled his head from Dean's shoulder so he could look him in the face. "Hey Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Of course, you can." Dean said with a grin. He may be lost in himself, but he will always be Sam's protective big brother.

Sam gathered his pillow and crawled under the covers with his big brother, the way he had done for so many years when they were younger. Even when they had their own beds Sam always felt safer at Dean's side, and Dean always felt like he could keep Sam safer if he was nearby. But, even when they did fall asleep separate, Sam would often wake his brother after a nightmare and end the night curled up beside him.

The brothers laid on their sides, facing each other. Sam watched Dean as he closed his eyes, letting the exhaustion wash over him.

"Dean, I'm sorry any of this has happened to you."

Dean opened his eyes, looking into his brother's. "Yeah, well, nothing we can do about that now."

"Does it still hurt?"

Dean drew in a deep breath. "No not really, not physically, not like before."

"Mentally?" Sam was always the one to ask a million questions about everything.

"Yeah."

"How so?"

"I uh… I have flashbacks, nightmares, these visions, whatever you wanna call them. They don't really make sense because it's just like part of a certain situation or event and I don't really know what's happened before or even after it, it's just like the middle of something. And, it scares me, a lot, sometimes."

"Like, when you're asleep, or when you're awake too?"

"Both, sometimes, but when I'm awake, it's just like when I close my eyes, there's a picture taped to the back of my eyelids. A quick flash of a vision or something, but when I'm asleep it's more of a nightmare."

"What do you see?"

"Just stuff, Sammy, I really don't want to talk about it."

"Do you remember any of it?"

"Only what I've been told and the flashes that's gone through my mind. It's all still pretty blank."

"Do you want to remember?"

"I don't know. Not really. I mean, I hate not knowing what's happened to me, I don't like having a black hole in my memory, but from what I have remembered I think I'm kinda lucky that I don't remember."

"I think you're lucky too. I don't think I would want to remember if I were you."

"Why's that?"

"Because I think it was really bad. Like worse than anything you've ever had to face before. The way it was described, and your injuries, I wouldn't want to remember any of that. It scares me, watching you, and I don't think I would be able to handle being on your side of things."

Dean crinkled his forehead. "Why does it scare you?"

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, I mean, I know you're doing your best, but I get scared that you're going to starve or something, and not wake up in the morning. Or, like tonight, I thought you were dying, I didn't know what was going on, and yeah, it scared the hell out of me. I just don't want to lose you."

"You're not going to lose me."

"Are you going to kill yourself?"

Dean huffed. "Look, there's a lot of things that go through my mind, a lot of stuff that doesn't make sense, and that I can't control. Sometimes it's like my mind just spins and I can't do anything about it. But, as long as there's even a small part of my brain that's working properly, no I'm not going to."

"And, if there's not?"

"Then, I honestly don't know what to tell you. If I can't think straight then I can't make rational decisions. Guess that's where I need you, huh? To keep me straight in the head."

"Your head scares me."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, Sammy, it scares me sometimes too."

"Hey, Dean."

"Yeah?"

"You ever wish our lives could be different, you know, like normal?"

"You thinking about going back to college?"

"No, just wondering, I mean, if we would have had a normal life then you wouldn't be dealing with what you're dealing with."

"Well, I mean, yeah that may be true, but, we also wouldn't have seen all the cool stuff we've seen. We wouldn't have had the adventures we had. Plus, I don't think it's the life we live, or the fact we grew up hunters that make us who we are. I mean sure, it may intensify it, but, I've always been protective over you, from the day they brought you home from the hospital. You've always been my little brother and I think I would have always done what I needed to do to keep you safe and taken care of."

Dean closed his eyes and let out a yawn before continuing. "Sure, maybe we would have had two parents and a stable home and enough food, but I would have still been right there, making sure you had what you needed, no matter what. The same way this life hasn't really changed you. You were born a geek and you're still a geek." Dean grinned.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

"I love you, Dean."

"Hey man, don't you think we've had enough girly moments, I'm not ending the night with kissing and making up."

Sam laughed at his brother and just shook his head. "Night, Dean."

"Night, Sam."

 _Dean was laying on his back on a mattress, or maybe it was an actual bed that was up off the floor, he wasn't sure. It was more of a mixture between the both, or maybe it changed from being on the floor to a bed. He looked over to his right side and saw Sam laying on the bed beside him. Dean felt exhausted, his body ached, his stomach was past the point of feeling nauseated, it was sunken and aching from being so empty. His body was shivering and he felt so weak he could barely turn his head._

 _When he looked at Sam, he looked like he was feeling just as bad, actually worse. He looked like he might die soon. Dean felt fear build in him as he looked into his brother's eyes and saw nothing but death. Only, they weren't Sam's eyes. They were someone else's eyes that were on Sam's face. Dean would know. He knows his brother's eyes. He knows everything about his brother._

 _Someone was there. They were going to hurt Sam. Dean couldn't let that happen. He had to protect his little brother, keep him alive. He tried to speak, tried to fight against the unseen forces that held him against the mattress and choked the voice out of him._

 _Shock went through his body as lightning strikes of pain shot through him. He didn't know where it was coming from, or what was causing it. He only knew the pain was beyond what his body could handle. His body shook and his mind spun. His vision blurred out. He could still hear. He could hear screaming, crying, evil laughs and voices. They all blended together, from sources he couldn't see._

 _Sam, was Sam one of them screaming? Or, crying? No, he couldn't let Sammy get hurt, he had to protect him. He tried to turn his head, to see Sam, to make sure he was okay, but everything was pitch black, and there was a force that held his head, like it was pressed against an invisible wall._

 _Panic had set in, full blown. Dean wasn't sure what was going on, or where he was at. But, worse than anything, he didn't know where Sam was at. He remembers seeing him chained to a wall, but that felt like a lifetime ago, that couldn't be now, that couldn't be where he was still at. Could it?_

 _He remembers his hands being tied. The memories blurred into each other, his hands were tied over his head as his body hung in the air, then they were tied above his head as he laid on the mattress, or was it a table now?_

 _He tried to scream, call for his brother, but the sounds came out as small puffs of air. The last of the air in his lungs. He fought to take a breath, to give his lungs oxygen but failed with each attempt. His body felt like needles were pricking him everywhere. There were colorful spots dancing in the darkness._

 _Think. He couldn't think. He couldn't concentrate. His head was spinning. He felt dizzy but couldn't see anything to know if he really was dizzy. His head spun. His brain flickered with images from his life. They say, before you die, your life flashes before your eyes. Is this it? Is this his life flashing before him? Is this his death?_

 _He imagined it would feel something different than it did, but the flashes, the images couldn't be wrong. Then, as quickly as they came, they disappeared as he drew in a deep, greatly needed, breath. His lungs burned as he coughed and fought to keep the air inside his lungs from escaping too quickly. He needed it. He didn't know how much longer he would be allowed to continue drawing in his breaths of air._

 _His chest hurt. Why did his chest hurt so bad? The air he was breathing no longer felt like his own. It felt forced, like someone, or something, was forcing him to take breaths that his body didn't want or couldn't take. There was so much pressure on his chest. It was making his heart hurt. He could feel the pain shooting through his heart from the pressure being pushed against it._

 _Everything was suddenly loud, when had it become quiet? He could hear different noises around him, hear talking and yelling back and forth. He couldn't make out the words, it all sounded too jumbled. He was under water again, or at least that's what it felt like, what it sounded like._

 _Sammy, where was Sammy? Was he okay? He had to be okay. "Sammy, Sammy!" Dean called out but he couldn't even hear his own voice. It felt like he was calling for him, but the sounds were all too jumbled to tell if his own voice was part of the jumbled mess. He needed his brother. He needed to make sure he was okay._

"SAMMY!" Dean shouted in a panic as his eyes flew opened and he pushed against the force that was holding him down.

"Hey, Dean! Calm down!" Sam said as he pushed back against him.

Sam had been trying to wake Dean from his nightmare. He had attempted to hold Dean still, to keep him from injuring himself, while he moved around, reacting to what was in his head.

"It's me, Sam, it's okay, just calm down!" Sam pleaded.

"Sammy! Sammy. Sammy?" Dean was desperately looking for his brother, until he realized that the hands that were touching him was his brother's. "Sammy, Sammy, you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah Dean I'm fine. You were having a nightmare."

Dean had started patting Sam down, searching for any hidden injuries. Sam reached and grabbed both of Dean's hands, pulling them off his body and holding them in his hands.

"Dean, I'm okay, nothing happened to me. I'm fine. You just had a nightmare. It's okay."

Dean's mind was going in a hundred different directions. He couldn't seem to process what Sam was saying to him.

"Sam! You have to go! Before they come back. You need to be safe. Sammy, I need you to be safe!"

"Dean, I am safe, so are you. It's okay. We're at Bobby's."

Dean's eyes searched around the room, he was clearly confused about where he was at. "No, Sam. You need to go, please."

The commotion had gotten John's attention and he headed to the boys' room to check on them.

"Sam! Go!" Dean shouted as John walked into the room.

"Dean! It's okay. It's just Dad. It's okay."

Dean looked confusingly at his dad.

"Hey, sport, you okay there?" John questioned as he sat at the edge of the bed near the boys.

"He had a nightmare." Sam was starting to panic.

"It's okay, buddy." John said calmly. "Take a minute to breathe." He looked at Sam. "Both of you." Then back at Dean. "You just had a bad dream, memories of things that happened, probably. Everyone is safe right now, so you can relax, let your guard down a little."

Dean still looked to be out of it, confusion evident on his face. "No, no it wasn't a dream." He pleaded his dad to believe him.

"Yeah, it was. You were probably dreaming about real things that happened, but at this moment, it isn't happening anymore. You're here, at Bobby's with us. And, everyone is safe."

"But… but… Sam was there, he… his eyes… they looked like death, like he was going to die. And… and he was lying on the bed beside me…. I had to keep him safe, I couldn't let them hurt him."

Dean's voice was pleading for John to believe him, to understand that it wasn't a dream, it was real. It really happened. He needed Sam to be safe.

"But… then I couldn't move to help him… I couldn't save him, Dad, I tried but I couldn't. I couldn't move or see anything. I could hear a lot of screams, I don't know if one of them was Sammy or not."

Dean was talking directly to his dad, like he had lost the fact Sam was sitting right beside him, still holding onto his hands. "I… I couldn't breathe. And… I saw my life, well it was like pictures of my life… like they say before you die your life flashes before you, but… I don't know what happened. I started breathing again, but not really, and my chest hurt so bad it made my heart hurt. But, I don't know what happened to Sammy. I tried to call for him. I tried to find him. I needed to find him but I couldn't."

Dean's eyes were filled with tears. He didn't know where his brother was, or if he was safe. He didn't understand what was happening to him. He tried his best to explain to his dad what had just happened. He was scared. Truly scared.

"Hey, Dean, it's okay, Sammy's right there." John said, motioning to him. "He's safe. See. It's okay."

Dean looked at his brother, even more confused than before.

"Listen to me." John got Dean's attention back on him. "What you dreamed about, it really did happen, only not exactly like that. Sam wasn't there, not for that. It was someone else that was beside you. But, you need to calm down, and come back to reality, then we'll talk about it, okay?"

Dean nodded his head, his eyes drifted open and closed as he fought off the need for sleep after such a big adrenaline dump. He was still unsure of what was going on, but no longer had the energy to fight it. John climbed in the bed between Dean and the wall, pulling his son to his chest, resting Dean's head over his heartbeat.

"It's okay. Sam and I are both here to protect you, no one is going to hurt you, not tonight. It's okay. We are all together and safe, go back to sleep, let your mind and body rest." John soothed Dean with his words as Dean drifted back to sleep.

Sam leaned his body over and rested it on Dean's, his head laid on the back of Dean's shoulder. "He had a really bad dream." Sam stated again.

"Yeah, I know. He'll be okay. It will all be okay." John assured him as he wrapped his arm around both of his sons, they were going to finish the night together. The only way the family could be sure they each had the safety and comfort they needed.


	32. Chapter 32

**CHAPTER 32**

Morning came and John stretched his stiff body. Dean still had his head resting on John's chest and Sam had managed to wrap his body around Dean's, his head laid in John's lap and Dean and Sam's bodies tangled together as one. He couldn't help but smile and give a silent chuckle at his boys.

They were special, no doubt about it. They could be tough enough to save the world, but when it came to each other, they were nothing but big kids. It was like, they never truly grew up. Not that the thought was surprising. They didn't exactly have the ideal childhood. Really, they didn't exactly have any childhood, especially Dean. They were never trained to be kids, or adults.

In a way, John figured that was a good thing, it kept their innocence. It kept their individuality. They were who they were because that's who they are, not who the world tells them they should be. They aren't what the other hunters think a hunter should be. They are Dean and Sam Winchester, the two closest brothers the world has ever seen.

And, no matter what this crappy world may throw at them, they will always be brothers and they will always be close. Some families separate, quit talking to each other over silly arguments. Sure, they aren't perfect, and Sam did leave for college, but they would never truly separate. Even while Sam was away Dean made sure he kept an eye on him, the same as John did. They both made sure Sam was safe in his new environment.

That was all part of them keeping their individuality. Sam wanted to try his own thing, to be his own person. John wondered if Sam found it strange how serious people out there can be. They don't always hold the same sense of humor the Winchesters do, but then again, until you've seen the worst of the worst you can't laugh at what only scares others.

Sure, they could be serious too, especially when on a job, but they also needed the release that being the kids they never got to be brought. They would play pranks on each other and so many times John would have to tell them to behave themselves because they were acting so immature.

What John wouldn't give to have those days back, to see his boys playing pranks and acting like adult children again. It would be so much better than this. This was hard, harder than John could have possibly imagined. He would have never believed either of his boys would have ended up in a situation like this.

And, it all started with some fool out there who had a personal beef with hunters. Trapping his boys, torturing them, causing more emotional damage than Dean could handle. Sure, he had healed up well from the incident, but he still ended up walking out, needing his space to deal with what was in his head.

That space only led him to an even worse situation. One that John wasn't sure if his son would make it out of. He knew Dean would heal and get back on his feet, but he wasn't sure what type of lasting effects it would leave. He wasn't sure if Dean, or Sam, would walk away from this going back to their old selves. Hell, John wasn't even sure if he would be able to go back to his ways after being forced to be a father again.

Not only was he being forced to be the father he never was, but he was having to be so much more. He was having to be his boys' rock, the thing that kept them standing when they wanted to lay down and quit. He had to be the doctor that took care of the injuries and sickness that took over Dean's body. He had to be the counselor that kept his kids' heads straight and kept his suicidal son alive. He had to listen to things that were hard to hear. He had to keep the boys' hope alive, he had to make them believe everything would turn out being okay, even during the times he couldn't believe it himself.

He was thankful Bobby was there. He was thankful Bobby was allowing them to use his house. He knew the boys, especially Dean, needed a stable place to stay, and a place he was familiar with and felt safe at. He needed a place to call home and a room of his own with a bed he could call his. He knew Sam needed to know Dean was comfortable with the place he was at and that he felt safe as well.

Even if one brother would be satisfied with something, if the other brother wasn't, then neither of them would settle, not until they were both satisfied together. It was the way they always worked. This was the only place they had ever been able to call home since the night of Mary's death. And, when things got bad, it was their safety net. Bobby was like an uncle to them. He was one of the few people John could trust with his boys when they were younger, and he had quickly become his best friend.

A best friend that John couldn't do without, especially right now. Bobby had been John's strength when he was feeling weak. He had been his help when both boys demanded the attention of someone who could help guide them through the hardships they faced. Dean, he seemed to need John right now, more than anyone else. It had been that way since he saved them from the crazy man who was hunting hunters.

Dean had always had an attachment with his dad, one Sam would never understand. But, it had always been a drill sergeant and soldier type of attachment. Bobby was always the one who understood Dean best. He was the one Dean looked up to as a father figure, the one he could talk to about his life problems and girls. Sure, Sam always looked up to Bobby too, but more as an uncle than a dad.

But, with the recent events, Bobby has had to be there for Sam most of all. He had to step up and give Sam the reassurance and safety he needed. While, John had somehow fallen into the father role in Dean's mind. He was the one Dean wanted, the one he needed, to help him through. There were times, when he would be too confused, and John was the only one who could get through to him, the only one who could make sense. He was the only one who could comfort him.

John was certain, he was also the only one Dean could completely trust and feel comfortable with. Sure, he trusted Sam and felt comfortable around him, but confused or not, he was sure there would have been no way he would have let his little brother help him shower the night before. That was something John was certain Dean would only feel comfortable enough with his dad.

He wondered how many times his boys had faced things in life, both young and older, that they desperately needed their dad, and he was nowhere around and unreachable. He wondered how many times they had reached out to Bobby for the help that John should have been there for. He knew it was too late to make up for lost times, but it wasn't too late to be there for them through this. It wasn't too late to start being there for them from now on.

He leaned against the corner of the headboard and the wall, watching his boys sleep. They always seemed so peaceful when they were together. It was like they couldn't seem to completely relax, couldn't let their guard down unless they were close enough to touch each other. Times like this, when one of them was having such a rough time, they found the comfort they needed in the other brother's closeness.

John knew Dean would see Sam as being worth everything he was going through. He figured he might need some reminders, but as long as he kept Sam in Dean's head, Dean would make it through as strong as he could. Giving up would be the last thing he would do. The only way Dean would ever give up is if it was required for Sam's safety. An exchange, a life for a life. Then, Dean would willingly sacrifice his last breath for his brother. And, Sam would do the same for Dean.

That's one thing that made them such a great team. They would always have each other's back, no matter what. And, since they had grown up so close to each other, they could literally know what each other was thinking without saying a word. They could come up with complete plans in their head and the other person would know exactly what was just planned and carry it out without a hitch.

He was proud of his sons. He wasn't sure when the last time he told them that was, or if he's ever really told them how proud he was. He had some amazing kids, and he knew it. He had never seen another set of hunter's kids that were as great as his own. There was something special about them, something that was greater than all the others out there.

Everyone who had ever really gotten to know the boys would agree. In fact, John was sure if any of the others knew what they were facing right now, they would neutralize the threat and save the judicial system a lot of money. But, this was far too personal to be handled the hunter's way, especially with the amount of people they were dealing with. He had thought about getting others involved, having them blow up a jail or two, but when researching their locations, they would also run into their charges, which would include Dean's name. There was no way he could do that to his son.

Sam moved, adjusting his position, wrapping tighter around Dean. Dean adjusted himself against his brother's shift, neither of them showing any signs of wanting to wake. John tightened his grips around his sons and closed his eyes to get some more sleep while he was able. It had been a long night and he was just as tired as his boys.

Dean managed to sleep comfortably under the comfort of his dad and Sam. He had a few bad dreams that caused him to moan and mumble some jibber but it didn't cause him to wake. Of course, John would wake and comfort Dean, giving him the chance to stay asleep.

The exhaustion of the past month or so had started wearing on John, as much as he hated to admit it, he's not as young as he once was. And, it seems all he's done is worry double time lately. First, it was the incident that involved both Sam and Dean, and he had to step up to the plate and help them through that, and now it was the current situation with Dean.

John was feeling the worry and stress weigh on him. It may have only been Dean who was involved in this latest situation, but when it came to his boys you couldn't worry about just one of them. The other would certainly be suffering some emotional distress with the other brother injured or sick.

He smiled at that thought. The thought of his boys caring so much about each other. If Mary were alive to see them, she would be so proud of the men they have grown into. They would be exactly what she would want in her boys. John wondered, if she was still alive, would they have ended up having more kids? They had talked about the idea, but both seemed satisfied with the two they had at the time. They never had the chance to talk about more kids anymore. Not since her untimely death. He knew his Mary would have liked to have a girl, but she was also just as satisfied with her boys.

Really, she didn't care either way. All she ever wanted was to be a mom. And, she was a damn good one! She treated her three men like they were her king and princes. She was so proud of the little boy Dean had become and couldn't be more in love with baby Sammy if she tried. She took such good care of them. She always made sure they had everything they needed and gave them constant attention.

Dean had gotten used to that. But, when she died, he lost everything he had ever known. He lost his mom, the only woman in his life. He lost the love and attention he once had. He lost the care that was given to him. He even lost the fact that everyone of his needs were taken care of. Instead, he took what his mom had taught him, he mimicked her actions, and used it to care for his little brother.

There was always a bit of Mary in Dean. He held so much of her good heartedness and love, but also her spunk and hardheadedness. Damn, he missed her! What he wouldn't give to have her with him right now, to help him help their boys. She would have already straightened Dean out and had him on the path to recovery. She would know what to do, what her boys needed. She always knew, somehow, she always knew exactly what the boys needed.

Right now, John was certain what Dean needed most was his mom. The one thing that could fix him, that could make him whole again, was the one thing he could never have. John was trying, and both Dean and Sam seemed to recognize that, and accept it. Dean seemed to need the care and attention of his real parent, no matter which parent it was. He didn't drift toward a saragent parent, like Bobby, the way he would normally do. Right now, Dean needed the real thing.

John had disappointed and let down his sons so many times, he would be damned if he let them down this time. No matter how much it may hurt him, no matter how much his heart broke and he wanted to get away from the emotional pain. He couldn't let them down.

He knew he was never good at the emotional part of things. When they were younger, if they started down an emotional road, no matter how small, John would run. He would leave them as fast as he could. He never knew how to handle things like that. It was always Mary's job to handle the tears and broken hearts of the boys.

As he leaned against the wall, comforting his sleeping boys, he had never felt so lonely in his life. He was always so good at running away from feelings that he never really took the time to feel them. Now, he didn't have much of a choice, not only was he feeling his own, but also those of his boys. Yes, he had Bobby to help him, but it just wasn't the same. He longed to have the gentle touch of a woman, the gentle touch of his Mary, her kind words of encouragement, and her understanding.

He would give anything for Dean to have that right now as well. Growing up a hunter didn't exactly provide the lifestyle one would long for. It wasn't something most people would understand, especially a woman. Dean had his fair share of one-night stands, even a relationship or two that lasted as long as a couple months, but nothing that would be for life. That wasn't going to be in the cards for either of his boys.

It would have been for Sam, but Jess was taken away the same way Mary was. John was thankful Sam had the chance to experience the love that was so strong it would hold on for life, but Dean has never understood that feeling. He has never understood that kind of love. He would be a good husband, and a good father. John has never known a person to be as dedicated and compassionate as Dean Winchester. But, that dedication and compassion was reserved for his first love, his family and hunting. It would never be used to benefit a wife or children of his own.

It wasn't like hunters have a history of living long lives anyhow, so John didn't know who in their right mind would want to build a family within the life they lived. But, the Winchesters have managed to stay above the odds, to be smart and live the long life they have.

Dean started to stir in his sleep, mumbling sounds that didn't seem to make any words. The morning sun was glowing around the edges of the window, the covering blocking it from shining too brightly. The room lightened as the darkness hid away. John rubbed Dean's back, calming him from the dreams swirling in his head.

His son was so strong. The strongest person he knew. Dean had been through hell and was still standing strong. Sure, he's had his weak moments, but that's all they were, moments. Once the moment passed his strength took over and pulled him through. He had tried to imagine what Dean could be feeling. He tried to imagine what it would be like to go through what his son has been through. But, he couldn't. There was no way possible he could begin to imagine what it was like for him.

John couldn't even imagine that he would be able to handle what Dean had. And, no way he would be able to survive, to be strong and live through it. Sure, he pushed Dean to keep going. He told Dean everything would be okay, that in the end it would be better. But, if John were honest, he wouldn't have the strength to do what Dean was doing. He wouldn't believe his own words if he was in Dean's shoes.

But, Dean had unwavering faith in his dad. He always obeyed every order he was given and believed every word his dad spoke. John never understood why. He had let that boy down more times than he cared to admit. He always broke promises, could never keep his word, made his son suffer through a childhood that was nowhere near fair. And yet, for some reason, Dean still held a love and devotion for his father. He still saw him as a hero. In Dean's eyes, John would never be the failure that he felt he was.

Dean started to moan and move around again so John gently woke him, since the morning light had been shining for awhile anyhow. He rubbed his hand across his son's back.

"Hey, Dean, it's okay. Why don't you wake up? It's morning anyhow. Come on, get out of that dream before it gets too bad."

John's attempts to wake Dean also woke Sam in the process.

Sam stretched and yawned, feeling like he got the best sleep of his life.

"Hey, Dean, morning!" Sam said, giving Dean a gentle shake, finishing his waking process.

Dean groaned and stretched but didn't show any desire to move just yet. Not that he could since his giant brother was wrapped on top of him.

"Get your giant ass off me." Dean said, still sounding half asleep.

Sam unwrapped himself from his brother and pulled away from their dad.

Dean rolled his body away from John once Sam had moved, and slowly worked on moving enough to sit on the edge of the bed.

"How you feeling this morning, sport?" John asked as he stood and stretched his stiff muscles.

Dean yawned and shrugged his shoulders, wiping his hands down his face and closing his eyes again.

"Wake up, sleepy head!" Sam said as he gave a soft slap to Dean's shoulder as he walked past him with clean clothes in hand, heading to the shoulder.

"I'm awake!" Dean protested as he pushed himself to a standing position, grabbing the edge of the bed for a moment to allow his head to settle and the world to stop tilting.

"You good there?" John asked.

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, I'm gonna head back to my room and put on some day clothes. I think Bobby woke up a while ago, I've heard him down in the kitchen, making breakfast no doubt."

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay."

John walked out of the room and Dean grabbed clean clothes and sat back on the edge of his bed. He hadn't noticed he had sat there long enough for Sam to take a shower and come back into the room.

"What's up with you?" Sam asked as he noticed Dean didn't even acknowledge when he came back into the room.

Dean was still sitting with his clothes in hand.

John happened to walk past their room at the same time, thinking if Sam was out of the shower, Dean should have been dressed as well, and they could all go to breakfast together.

"Hey, Dean-O, you okay?" John asked, placing a hand on his son's shoulder, shocking him back into reality. "You okay there?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean replied, a bit confused about what had just happened. It was like he just zoned out, but he couldn't remember where his mind had gone. It was like he just zoned to a big black hole or something. "I gotta get changed." He added, standing and heading to the bathroom.

"He okay?" Sam asked his dad.

"Yeah, I'm sure he is, he's just gotta finish waking up."

Sam nodded and they both waited for Dean to come back out of the bathroom. Then, they all three headed downstairs together.


	33. Chapter 33

**CHAPTER 33**

Dean had seemed a little spaced out, but other than that, he seemed like he was doing okay this morning. He sat at the table and managed to eat almost half his plate of food. Of course, Bobby never gave him as much food as he normally would have, he knew he wouldn't be able to eat it anyhow. But, for him to eat half of it was a huge accomplishment.

The only problem was, he seemed to just eat absentminded. He wasn't really paying attention to what he was doing, or even the conversation taking place around him. He kept looking at Sam, checking his eyes, making sure they didn't look like the death eyes in his dreams.

He was trying to make sense of the things in his mind. Trying to make sense of his dreams from the night. The mornings always seemed to be the hardest for him because he woke up with so many new memories, and questions. He tried hard to put the pieces together but they always seemed to fall short.

His mind was always working overtime after he woke up, but this morning it was different. The big nightmare that had woke Sam and Dad felt too real. There seemed to be something different about it, but he couldn't figure out what. He had tried so hard to convince his dad the dream was real. Of course, now that he was awake he knew it was just a dream. But, at the time, he was certain every bit of it was real and had just happened.

Dean's body shivered and he rubbed his hands over his upper arms to brush the shivers away. He wasn't feeling sick, he just felt… off. He felt like something was wrong with his body. He was breathing okay. His heartbeat didn't feel like it was running a million miles a minute. He was sitting down so he wasn't feeling lightheaded or dizzy. He just felt… he couldn't figure it out… he just felt like not himself.

He hadn't noticed everyone had finished eating and cleared the table. Sam and Bobby had left the kitchen, John stayed to wash the dishes and Dean remained lost in his mind, sitting at the table.

Dean looked up for the first time in minutes and noticed everyone gone. He looked toward the noise he heard and saw his dad finishing the dishes.

"Hey, Dad?" Dean was still lost in his thoughts but needed answers to so many questions running through his head.

"Yeah?" John turned to see his son looking at him, his eyes looked like they were miles away. He looked like a lost child.

"Did I die?"

John drew in a deep breath and made his way to the table, sitting in the chair beside Dean.

"What do you remember?" John asked, wiping his hand down his face.

He didn't have to ask what Dean was talking about, truth is, he already knew, but wanted to know what Dean remembered first.

"In my dream last night, I… it was like I was at the place I don't remember. I couldn't breathe, but then I could, but then it was like it wasn't me breathing anymore. It was more like I was being forced to breathe, and my chest hurt. It hurt so much, and there was so much pressure on it that it even made my heart hurt. But, know how they say before you die your life flashes before your eyes?"

"Yeah."

"Well, pictures and like… I don't know, short videos, of my life played in front of me while I couldn't breathe. Then when I took a breath they stopped. I don't know, not everything makes sense to me, I remember little pieces of things and sometimes they get jumbled up. Like I thought Sammy was there too. I even called for him, but I know he wasn't so I'm not sure why I dreamt that or dreamt that I called out for him."

John drew in another deep breath, held it for a couple seconds, then released it. "Okay, I'll tell you what I know, if you're ready to hear it."

Dean nodded his head, not taking his eyes off his dad. He was ready to hear it. He didn't care what it was, he needed to fill in the empty spaces in his head, he needed to make sense of what he was dreaming and seeing in his head. It was time, he may not have been able to handle things before, but now that his mind had started piecing things together, he was ready to hear what he needed to finish his thoughts.

"Okay, so do you remember Detective Smith?"

"Yes, sir."

"He was the one who went into the room you were in and found you. He said there were ten men, nine others and you. There were mattresses lined against the walls, and everyone had a cuff on their ankle that was chained to the floor. Remember him saying it was a human sex trafficking thing?"

"Yes, sir."

John nodded. "Well I guess no one was dressed and there were two guys, plus yourself, who were involved in activities with other men when Smith and his partner busted into your room."

Dean wiped his hand down this face. This was going to be harder than he thought, but he needed to hear it.

"Well, the guy with you, he had a rope wrapped around your throat, keeping you from breathing. Smith pulled him off, tossing him to another officer and pulled the rope off you. The guy next to you was already dead. There wasn't any saving him. That's where your memories come in with the eyes that looked like they were dying, somehow you just put them on Sam's face."

Dean nodded again, starting to understand a little.

"He said you started fighting to breath once he removed the rope. You had coughed and managed to pull in a breath or two on your own before your body just gave up. Smith started CPR on you. So, yes, I guess you can say you died. You almost died before they busted into the room, then again after they tried to save you. That's probably where the forced breathes and the pressure on your chest comes in, from the CPR. The chest pain and heart pain, that was probably your heart giving out."

Dean closed his eyes and swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

"By the time the ambulance crew had gotten there he had you breathing again, and your heart was pumping on its own. But, he said they still had a lot of work they needed to do on you before they could consider you stable. He said as they started to move you, to get you onto the stretcher and to the ambulance, you started calling out for Sammy. He said it was weak, and you weren't able to make words out very clearly, but that was one thing he understood clearly, was your brother's name. You had some other words you mumbled, probably things like asking where he was, but yeah, you did call for your brother, according to Smith."

Dean rested his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. He stayed that way for a minute, letting it all soak in, letting the pieces fall into place.

"Honestly." John continued. "With the drugs that were in your system, it's possible you could have been hallucinating, you could have honestly thought your brother was there. You could have seen his face in every face you saw, who knows."

Dean wiped his hands down his face as he lifted his head to look at his dad. "So… I did die? And he saved me, twice? That makes sense with my dream last night, why it felt so real." He was still trying to process.

John nodded his head. "I'm sorry I wish I could tell you everything so you wouldn't feel so lost, but I don't know everything, no one does. But, I do know a few things, like this, that Smith told me about. But, honestly some of it doesn't make sense to me, not until you start having memories of something then when you put the two together it makes sense."

"Yeah, that's how I feel."

"I'm sorry. I wish I knew how to make it better for you."

"Yeah, me too." Dean sat for another moment, allowing himself to adjust to the physical feeling that was pushing its way through his body. "Hey, Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"I don't… I don't feel… I feel weird."

"How so?" John's face scrunched up with concerned confusion.

Dean shrugged. "I don't know. Not like sick, or anything like that, I just… I don't feel like myself. Not the way I've been. This is different. I don't know how to explain it."

"I need you to try."

"It's like…. I'm living in a dream. Like, you know how you get those Deja vu moments? Like you feel like your head is in a dream or something like that?"

John nodded his head.

"Yeah, that's kinda how I feel, and everything sounds funny, even my own voice is echoing through my head." Dean closed his eyes trying to let the feelings wash over him.

"I feel like my body is shaking." He put his hands out in front of him, showing John they were perfectly still. "But, it's not. It's more like on the inside."

Bobby had stood in the door way hearing Dean explain how he was feeling. John looked up at his friend, searching for answers, for an explanation. Bobby just shrugged. Dean closed his eyes again, he felt like he hadn't slept in years, tiredness overcoming him. Not exhaustion, his body wasn't exhausted, it was just that he couldn't seem to keep his eyes opened, like he just needed to close them and sleep.

"Come on, boy." Bobby spoke as he moved toward Dean. "Let's get you out of this chair and on the couch before you pass out or decide you're gonna take another seizure."

Dean didn't fight against them or protest when they walked him from the table to the couch. In fact, he was grateful for their help, it meant he didn't have to open his eyes while he walked. They laid him on the couch without him even opening his eyes.

"Keep a close eye on him." Bobby instructed to both John and Sam, who was sitting in the chair beside the couch reading a book. "I'm gonna make a few phone calls, see if I can figure anything out to make him feel better."

John and Sam both nodded, watching Dean intensely. He started having beads of sweat pop up on his neck and forehead. He was asleep but seemed a little too restless. It was more than evident he wasn't feeling well, but what was wrong with him was beyond any of them.

His face would grimace like it was in pain any time his body moved or jerked. Dean hadn't had a lot of physical pain so this was something completely out of character for him.

"Dad, I'm worried about Dean, like really worried!" Sam sounded so young and so scared.

"Yeah, me too."

"I mean, I know he's trying his best, but he doesn't seem to be getting any better, if anything he just keeps getting worse. It's like his mind is fighting and getting stronger but his body is just giving up."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Sam, I don't know what to do. I've done everything I can think of. I've tried to fight for him as hard as he's tried fighting for himself, but I don't know if it's doing any good."

"Yeah." Sam dropped his head. There was no way he was going to be able to face losing his brother, especially this way, especially with Dean fighting so hard. "Should we try to wake him or something?"

"No, we need to wait and see what Bobby comes up with first. We might need him to stay asleep."

"Okay." Sam just nodded his head and continued watching his brother toss and turn in his sleep as his clothes started soaking up the sweat that was building on his body.

"Okay, I got it!" Bobby said as he walked back into the room. "You ain't gonna like it none, and neither is he, but from what I understand it'll work."

"Okay, what is it?" John questioned.

"Well I did some calling around, and some people did some calling around for me. So, since we don't know what he was given, or anything about the people who were behind the crap Dean got into, it was suggested, perhaps, since Dean didn't fit their usual victimology, then we should look into the possibility they grabbed him on purpose, for a specific reason."

John was trying to follow what Bobby was saying, but really all he cared about was what was going to help his son.

"If that's true. Then there's reason to suspect, perhaps not everyone who was involved with this was 100% human. And that they could have known who Dean was. It's possible there's something supernatural going on here too." Bobby continued as he sat down.

John and Sam both looking at each other, trying to figure out if Bobby had a point or if he had gone completely insane.

"Since the boy doesn't seem to be getting any better, in fact, he just gets worse, it's a completely possible explanation."

"Okay, so, let's say you're right, then what?"

"Well, that's the part you ain't gonna like."

"Just spit it out, will you, Singer?"

"For starters we're going to need to lock him in my panic room."

"This can not be good." John mumbled.

"There's some symbols I need to draw in there, but we gotta wait till after he's inside, or it'll keep him from entering. If any of these symbols work then his body is going to react, which means, once we get him in there we're going to need to restrain him, to keep him and ourselves safe."

"Yeah, not liking this at all." John replied.

"Oh, just wait, it keeps getting better." Bobby sarcastically added. "After the symbols there's a few chants that need to be done. We don't know what we're working with, so even if he reacts to one thing, doesn't mean it's the only thing, there could be several things we are fighting against right now. The chants are going to do the same as the symbols, some of them are exorcisms, so it's possible we may get some violent reactions from him. Once again, the reason for restraints."

Bobby paused, looking regretfully at Dean. "The thing is, these all need to be done on the same day. It will take a couple hours to draw everything and complete the chants. Depending on the reactions we get from Dean, there's a possibility it could end up being more than his body can take. If that happens, he's already too far gone and would have nothing but a long road of suffering in front of him."

"This is my boy you're talking about." John snapped.

"Trust me, I know." Bobby sighed. "There's also the possibility that it will just be a lot and wear him down. Either way, if we are dealing with even one of these things, it's not going to be easy on him."

John nodded, looking at his restless, weak, tired son. "He's already so worn out from fighting."

"I know, John, but it's not going to get any easier on him, he's fighting a battle that he may not be able to win on his own."

John sighed. "Then what? What do we do if he makes it through the ritual chants?"

"There's this brew that I need to make. He needs to stay restrained in the room while we feed it to him, for up to a week."

"A week?" Sam questioned.

"Yes, hopefully not longer. The thing is, it will make him violently ill, especially at first. It like flushes all the toxins out of his body, all the supernatural crap that's floating around in there. As it clears out, the less sick it will make him. It's not going to taste the greatest so as he starts feeling better and breaking free of this crap he'll start complaining about the taste, but he has to be fed it for at least a week."

"And, if none of this works?" Sam questioned.

"Then it's either not supernatural or its something ain't none of us come across before."

"So, if this doesn't work then… he's not going to get better?" Sam asked.

Bobby shrugged. "Don't know, can't answer that. If this doesn't work I'll make some more phone calls, that's all I can tell you. I don't want to lose your brother anymore than you do, I can guarantee you that, I'll do everything in my power to save him, the same as I've been doing this whole time."

Sam nodded, tears flooding his eyes. "You gotta be okay, Dean." Sam whispered to Dean.

"So, when do we get started?" John asked.

"You and Sammy can carry him down, while I get some things I'll need. The sooner we can get this started, the sooner we can get him better."

John and Sam both agreed as they, together, lifted Dean from the couch and carried him into the basement. Both of their hearts sunk as they cuffed the restraints around Dean's ankles and wrists. He has had so much of similar treatment lately, it ached to think the restraints themselves could be enough to send him over the edge.

Dean started to wake up as they were restraining him to the bed in the panic room.

"Hey! What the hell are you doing?"

"Dean, I need you to calm down son, you need to trust us right now." John tried to use his most reassuring, calming voice he could.

"If I'm supposed to trust you then why the hell are you cuffing me to this bed?"

"Bobby thinks we're dealing with something supernatural, that's why you're not getting any better." Sam tried to explain once he finished attaching the last buckle of the cuff on his left wrist.

Dean was struggling against him, making it difficult for Sam to get it buckled properly.

"What the hell! I'm doing fine, I promise I'm doing better, don't do this! Please." Dean started with being on the defense and ended with pleading.

"Dean, if Bobby is wrong, then nothing will happen and you'll be fine. The restraints are for your own safety. But, if he's right then it'll end up killing you if we don't do this." John tried to help his son understand. The fear and uncertainty in Dean's eyes broke right through to John's soul.

"Then just let me die!"

"Dean!" Sam was pissed at his brother's comment, but also understood.

"Please! Don't do this! Please! I'll be fine, I promise. I'll get better. I've been trying hard. Please! Dad! Please." Dean begged and pleaded for them to let him go, not to do whatever they had planned, as Bobby walked into the room, Dean's pleadings intensified. "Please, Bobby! You know I'm fine, just let me go."

"I'm sorry, Dean. I can't do that." Bobby sympathized as he started drawing the first symbol. Dean was pulling against the restraints, trying to lift his head and look around to see what Bobby was doing. "Okay, fine, do whatever the hell you want, but you don't have to tie me down, you can take these things off." Dean sounded calm, like he had given into allowing them to do what they wanted.

"Like I said, they are for your own safety." John reminded him.

Frustrated and with a groan he slammed his head on the bed. "I hate you!" He screamed out.

Bobby continued to draw the symbols, unfazed by Dean's outburst.

"Bobby! I'm warning you! You better stop and let me the hell out of here!" Dean growled out in anger as Bobby started to draw a new symbol.

Bobby paused long enough to catch John's eye, the sudden threat and evil growling voice of Dean didn't go unnoticed by the men. It was a sign that they were on the right path.

Dean's irritation and anger grew as Bobby continued to draw the symbol.

"STOPPPP!" He screamed! "I'll kill you! I'll fucking kill you! All three of you! Just stop!" He pulled so hard against the restraints his hands were turning white from the lack of blood flow.

"May need to buckle the restraint that goes across his waist too." Bobby suggested as Dean started bucking his body, trying to get himself away from whatever force the symbol had on him.

John and Sam instantly went to Dean, Sam placed his body over Dean's to hold him down, while John grabbed the straps that were attached to the bed and started putting them over Dean's waist.

"I'm going to kill you!" Dean growled out as he used a force far beyond his own and broke the restraint on his left wrist, grabbing Sam's body and throwing him across the room.

Sam slammed into the wall and fell to the floor. A blood splat was left on the wall where his head and come into contact with full force. The blood pooled on the ground around his head as he laid unconscious.


	34. Chapter 34

**CHAPTER 34**

"Sam!" John shouted as he watched his youngest son get forced across the room. "Bobby!" John yelled as he watched Sam hit the wall and fall to the ground. "Bobby, Sam!"

Bobby turned to see what was happening.

"I got him." John said, holding Dean down against the bed. "Check on Sammy."

Bobby instantly stopped his drawing and went to Sam's side.

Dean tried to grab his dad, he clawed at him as he held his arm against his bed. The leather cuff was broken, so John had no choice but to use a metal handcuff that was nearby. He cuffed Dean's hand down and worked on restraining his waist.

Dean continued to growl out threats and hatful words. He didn't even seem to acknowledge what he had done to his brother. John was sure that Dean was no longer Dean. Whatever had taken over his body had him locked away and had taken control.

Bobby knelt beside Sam, pressing a towel he had grabbed to the back of his head to stop the bleeding.

"Sam?" Bobby tried to get a response from him. "Hey, Sammy. Can you hear me?"

"You're not going to win this! You will not destroy this family!" John shouted to the thing controlling Dean's body.

Satisfied with the fact his son was once again restrained, he made his way to Sam. "I got him, Bobby. Go finish that damn drawing. We gotta get this taken care of."

Bobby nodded, letting John take over the pressure on the back of Sam's head. He stood and without a word to Dean or anyone else, he started working on finishing the symbol.

Dean continued to scream and fight as Bobby drew. Once he had completed the symbol and moved to the next one, Dean didn't seem to be calming down any. In fact, he seemed to intensify in the anger he was displaying. The force he was using had them afraid he would break through another cuff.

Bobby had paused long enough to double cuff Dean. He placed a metal handcuff around his right wrist and both ankles. If he broke through the leather cuffs it would give them time to restrain him before he would be able to break the metal ones. He then tied rope around his left wrist, giving him a double restraint on that arm as well.

Tired of hearing the screams and threats come from Dean Bobby put a gag in his mouth, quieting the words and anger of the thing controlling him.

John sat on the floor, his back against the wall. He was positioned so he could keep an eye on Dean and Bobby, to make sure everyone stayed safe. He held Sam's head in his lap, keeping the pressure needed to stop any bleeding against his head.

Sam started to come back around, moving his head slightly and adjusting his body against the hardness of the floor.

"Take it easy there, son." John said. "You took a nasty hit to the head, just lay still."

Sam fluttered his eyes open against the pain and the light. He grimaced at the pain in his head and reached his hand to touch the back of his head. John stopped him, pushing his hand back down.

"You hit that wall hard, busted your head open pretty good. I think we got most of the bleeding stopped, but you need to take it easy, don't try to move around too much."

Sam mumbled a few words that John couldn't understand before his speech started clearing. "Dean doing okay?"

"The best as can be expected, I guess." John replied.

"Bobby was right?"

"Looks that way."

"When this is done, he'll heal?"

"Don't know for sure, but that's what we're hoping."

Sam just slightly nodded his head. He couldn't move it too much without the pain shooting through it.

"You wanna leave? Go back upstairs? Away from this?"

"No, I wanna stay here with Dean."

"May not be safe."

"Obviously." Sam said sarcastically, motioning to the back of his head.

"Yeah, kiddo." John replied.

They both stayed where they were at, watching Dean fight and struggle, trying to get the gag out of his mouth so he could spit out more hate. Bobby continued to draw the symbols.

"He alright?" Bobby asked John after him and Sam finished talking.

"Yeah, he's a Winchester, he's got a hard head." John joked, patting Sam on the shoulder.

"I'm fine!" Sam said. "Just have one hell of a headache, that's all."

Bobby nodded, continuing with his mission to cure Dean.

That was Bobby's boy laying on the bed, restrained against a possession that was trying to take over his body. His wrists were sore and red from pulling against the restraints. His face blood shot from trying to scream through the gag. He was hurting and Bobby was causing it.

Bobby loved Dean like he was his own child. He had watched that boy grow, he helped raise him while John was out hunting the supernatural. There were so many times John had sent those boys to his house and instead of treating them like the soldiers John wanted, he'd take them to the park to throw a foot ball or run and play.

He loved Sam just as much. Both boys were like the kids he never had, the kids he never knew he wanted. Bobby was so afraid of having kids. He never had any desire to be a dad. He had a fear of turning out like his own dad. And, there was no way he could treat another human being the way his dad treated him. He guesses that's why he would take Sam and Dean to play when they were little. He was giving them the childhood they never got the chance to have, the childhood Bobby never got the chance to have.

He could relate to Dean more than Sam, that's never been a secret to any of them. He knew how it felt to have the responsibility of keeping his family together. He knew how much it hurt, more mentally than physically, to put yourself in the line of fire to protect your family. So many times, Bobby would step between his parents, taking the blunt of his dad's beatings, saving his mom from his fists of rage.

He did what he could to protect his mom. The woman who should have been protecting him instead. But, Bobby was the one responsible for holding everything together, the same as Dean had been. Dean should have been taken care of. He should have been watched over, but instead, he was the one who cared for Sammy and his dad. He was the one who would reassure John when he felt down. He was the one who would dry Sammy's tears.

It should never have fallen on Dean's shoulders. He was just a kid, still a baby himself. But, John never saw him that way. He only saw him as someone he could train to fight in his crusade, someone who could help him hunt and kill the thing that killed his wife and their mother.

Dean took on the responsibility, sacrificing every part of him in the process, and, never once did any of them every hear him complain. Never once did he refuse or argue about the fact that he had everyone else's weight on his shoulders.

Now, here he was, torturing the one person who deserved it the least. He was causing his own son pain, adopted or not, he was still his, Bobby would never not claim him as his own. Dean was struggling, fighting against an unseen force that he had been fighting for far too long.

Dean felt like his body was boiling, it was boiling from the inside out. The pain was almost too much, okay, it was too much, but he wasn't in control of his body. The thing that had taken over could obviously handle more than Dean could.

Bobby had stopped drawing the symbols, taking a moment to make his way to Dean. He knelt beside the bed. Dean's body was soaked in sweat, it was dripping from his hair and face from the struggle his body was fighting. Bobby removed the gag. Dean's lower jaw was trembling, his muscles tightened, his teeth shattering against each other from the trembling. He sucked in air with a groan.

Bobby placed his hand on Dean's forehead, taking a long look at his broken boy. Dean's eyes, at that moment, were all Dean. The fear and pain that were deep in his eyes, the begging for Bobby to make it stop, it was all Dean. The thing that was trying to take over was gone from his eyes. Tears dripped from them, running down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry, boy. I gotta finish this. You need to hold on for me." Bobby spoke quietly and gently as he rubbed Dean's forehead and wiped the tears from his face.

Dean groaned in pain, his body stilled while under Bobby's touch. His normally dark, deep green eyes were clouded and tear filled. His body trembling from the pain that was boiling through his blood. His forehead crinkled, his chin still trembling. Small moans of pain escaping through the breaths he struggled to breathe.

Bobby gave Dean a sympathetic look, apologizing for what he had to do in order to save his life. Putting the first items together, he started preparing for the first ritual chant. As he started, Dean's painful screams filled the air. The calmness that was just there was gone as he struggled against the restraints and boiling inside of him.

As Bobby continued with the next chant the boiling started showing on his skin. His arms and face started showing signs of boils and blisters. If he wasn't fully clothed, it was certain they would have seen several other spots cover his body.

Dean's voice became weakened, leaving him with pitiful cries of pain.

Sam buried his face in his dad's chest. He couldn't handle this. He couldn't handle his brother in so much pain. He had witnessed it, he had seen it just a couple months ago, when they were held captive. He watched Dean get beaten and tortured, heard the painful cries of his brother. And now, it was happening again.

Sam's tears soaked through John's shirt. His sobs causing his body to shake. The memories of them being held captive running through Sam's mind. He wasn't sure what was real anymore. He wasn't sure what was causing his brother pain. He just wanted it to stop. He need it to stop. He needed Dean to quit screaming and crying. He needed to not be able to hear his brother's pain.

As long as he kept his face buried in his dad's shirt, he couldn't see the pain that was too real. He couldn't see what his brother was going through. He couldn't see what was real and what wasn't. He grabbed fistfuls of John's shirt.

"Dad, I can't, make him stop, please." Sam cried in his dad's chest.

John rubbed his son's back. "Sam, it's okay, son. He'll be okay. We gotta let this happen. We have to get him healed."

Bobby continued his chants, continued the rituals that were required. Dean's body weakened with every moment. Every fight, every struggle was weaker than the one before. Tears streaked his face, his breathing was ragged and hitched. At times, he found it nearly impossible to take a breath.

Growls of evil would escape his lips, but the words were so weakened they couldn't be understood. They were sure if they could understand him, he would be shouting threats of death and injury to them. The boils on his arms started boiling and opened up. A greenish color puss started oozing from them. With each word Bobby spoke Dean's body reacted. His clothes soaked up the puss that oozed from his body.

Dean released the last of the strength he had, letting out the most horrible, painful scream any of them had ever heard. Dean felt as if his body was boiling apart. Like the life was draining from him. He felt as if every word that was spoken stabbed a knife deep into him.

His body started having convolutions. His eyes rolled toward the back of his head, then they would roll back, flickering with light and darkness. Evil growls and changes in facial expressions possessed him. His left hand pulled against the metal cuff with enough force it was bending. His body looked as if it was trying to lift from the bed, unable due to the restraints.

His waist pressed against the leather strap that crossed over him, pulling it so tightly that the places it was attached to the bed was bending with the force. He felt like his stomach, like every organ in his abdomen was going to be pressed out of him. Like the force was turning him into a flattened pancake against the restraint. It was making it too hard to breathe.

He suddenly started vomiting everything that was inside his stomach. The force that was being pressed against it, forcing it out. Dean started coughing and choking as it came up, with no where to go but into the air above him, falling back onto his face and chest and into his mouth. Adding with the rising volume of vomit, causing him to choke and gag even more, sucking the breath out of him. He could feel it burning his lungs and he tried to suck in a breath, only to allow vomit to fill them instead.

John rushed to Dean's side, turning his head to the side, and holding it against the bed. The vomit pooled onto the mattress around his face, giving it a new place to escape besides inside his lungs. His body shuttered uncontrollably under his dad's touch.

John's touch brought a piece of Dean back, and suddenly he found himself fighting for control over the thing that locked him away into his own body. The fight only caused more convulsions but had stopped the pull against the restraints. The force behind it had weakened with Dean's struggle for control.

Sam curled in on himself in the corner, fear of the memories. Fear of the pain and screams. Fear that he would lose his brother. Fear that this would be his last memory of the one thing, the one person, who has been his constant. The one person who he thought would always be there, no matter what. He couldn't lose him, not like this, not now, not ever!

Three hours after it started, with Bobby's final word, Dean's body fell limp and unconscious. John instantly checked for a pulse and breathing and released the breath he had been holding when he found both.

The room fell silent, no more words being chanted. No more screams and cries. No more growls and evil hatred. Calm, quiet filled the room.

Sam pulled himself from the ball he had curled into. "Is… is he… is he alright?" He questioned, afraid of the answer.

"Yeah, he's alive." John replied with a sound of relief.

"Come on, help me get some towels and water to clean him up." Bobby stated as he leaned his exhausted body against the wall. "And Sam, you need to get that head of yours stitched up."

John and Sam both nodded. John and Bobby headed out of the room to gather soap, water, and towels for Dean. But, Sam couldn't seem to move. The men didn't say anything, they knew what had just happened was hard on all of them, and Sam wasn't as mentally prepared for it as the older hunters had been.

John and Bobby had seen a lot in their lives. They knew how hard and exhausting it would be. They weren't prepared for the added difficulty of it being one of their own, but still they were prepared for the worst. Sam hadn't been a part of things like that before. He didn't ever want to be involved in the difficult things. He had a lot to process, so the men allowed him to stay in the room, watching his brother, and processing the events that just happened.

John grabbed the first aid kit and items that both boys would need for medical attention. Sam needed stitches and Dean needed to keep infections from the wounds that had formed. They weren't completely sure what his injuries were, but they knew it was important to keep infection from setting in. Dean was already weak, and no doubt this made him weaker. There would be no way his body would be able to fight anything more, not for a while.

They still had a week left, at least. Judging by the reaction they received from Dean, they were both concerned it might take longer than a week. Bobby had made up the first batch of brew that they would need to give Dean as soon as he woke, but for now, they needed to get him cleaned, wash off the green puss that oozed from his body and vomit that had stuck to his face and chest. They needed to rid his body of the sweat that coated him and dripped from his hair. They needed to make Dean as comfortable as possible and make him feel safe again.

They reentered the room to find both boys in the exact places they had left them. The fear in Sam's eyes said it all. John needed to get his youngest son out of the room. He needed to give him a break from the horror that laid in front of him. He needed to be away from the fresh memories of what just happened.

Grabbing the stitches and medical supplies he had brought for Sam, he knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his son's shoulder. "Come on, let's get you out of here, get that head taken care of."

Sam hesitated, giving resistance against his dad, but still allowing him to help him stand and walk out of the room.

"I don't want to leave him." Sam pleaded.

"We won't go far, just out of this room so I can take care of your head. We'll be right outside the door." John assured him, looking back at Bobby who nodded in understanding.

John hated leaving Bobby to clean Dean alone, but he knew it was important to remove Sam from the room.

John sat Sam in a chair that was in the basement outside of the panic room and started tending to his head. He washed the blood from his hair and scalp and carefully stitched the gash.

"You okay?" John questioned.

"I… I don't know." Sam answered honestly.

"I know, that was a lot, what just happened in there. But, it had to be done."

"Yeah, I know. It was just… I don't know… not what I expected."

"Well, there really isn't a certain thing to expect or not expect when it comes to stuff like that."

"Is he going to be alright, Dad?"

"Sam." John knelt in front of his son. "I honestly can't answer that. He's alive, so that's a good sign. Everything Bobby did has worked so far. We still have to give him that brew stuff, finish getting whatever it is out of him. So, things are looking good, yes."

Sam nodded, tears filling his eyes.

"Look." John added. "I'm not saying it's going to be easy, because it's not. Dean still has a long road ahead of him. I don't know what to tell you. No one knows what to expect. What Bobby did, it could have gotten rid of everything and Dean will have a week of resting and drinking something that tastes like dirty feet."

Sam chuckled.

"Or, it might still be in there, it might still have strength and if that's the case it's not going to go easily. It'll fight us, the same way it just did. And, Dean's going to have to stay strong and fight against it. It's lost part of its strength, there's no doubt about that. But, it may not have lost all of it."

Sam let out a sigh, he didn't want to see Dean have to fight anymore.

"Or, it could still be just the remnants of it. He might need a good detox then be fine."

"It's not fair." Sam sobbed. "He's fought so hard already, why does he have to keep fighting?"

"Because, he's doing it for you. Because you're worth it to him."

Sam flung his arms around his dad's neck, burying his face in his body and letting the tears flow. He had so many emotions he didn't know how to handle them. So much concern for his brother and now his dad had just told him he was fighting for him.

John stayed where he was and held his youngest son. Letting the tears flow and the emotions release.


	35. Chapter 35

**CHAPTER 35**

Bobby took the warm soapy water and started washing down Dean's face and hair. He was extra gentle, not knowing how much even the slightest touch would hurt him. He couldn't help but think of the small boy he first met. He was so bashful. He wouldn't speak and hid behind his dad.

Bobby ran the washcloth through Dean's hair, cleaning the vomit and sweat. After cleaning the opened burns on his head his covered them with antibiotic cream.

He remembered when he first met Dean, his hair was so much longer than it was now. It was a light golden color. He had thin, straight hair that ran past his ears. John had said Mary loved his hair and didn't want it cut short. She insisted he looked like a cute little boy exactly the way it was. As Dean got older he chose to cut his hair. He didn't like it long. It also darkened and grew some thickness to it.

Bobby finished with his hair and top of his head and moved back to his face, cleaning his ears and neck, doing the same with the wounds and ointment.

He remembered Dean's little freckles that ran across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He always had such a cute little smile. He could use those deep green eyes the same way Sam had mastered his puppy dog eyes. One look and Bobby would melt under Dean's innocence. Bobby chuckled as he remembered one-time Dean had been running around the junkyard in the rain and slipped in a deep puddle, covering himself with mud. It took them almost 30 minutes to clean all the mud from that boy. Even after a good bath Bobby still sat and cleaned mud from his ears and hair.

Bobby took a pair of scissors and cut Dean's shirt off. His heart sunk with the sight of more burns that had opened and oozed out. He knew they were there, he just wasn't prepared to see them yet. He continued to clean Dean's chest and arms, applying ointment once he was cleaned.

Dean was always so small and lanky when he was little. As he grew and trained he became solid muscle. With the latest events in his life he had lost a lot of muscle tone and was becoming skinny. Too skinny. Every girl Dean came across would stop and stare at his body. They only saw the muscles and tone. They didn't see the scars it held. They didn't see how hard he had to fight to build those muscles, how they were his weapons for survival. He had to be fit and strong to survive the things he hunted. His arms had held both life and death in them. They had taken lives of things that were no longer human.

Bobby cut away Dean's pants, leaving his boxers for last.

Again, the muscles and strength his legs once held was diminished. Weakness had taken over what was once strong. He held the strength of ten men, but right now, he couldn't even hold the strength of himself. Bobby hated the way John would strength train Dean. He pushed him far too hard. Forced him to run miles at a time followed by workouts that grown body builders would struggle with. But, it made Dean strong, Bobby had to admit that. And, never once did he disobey his dad's orders or complain about it being too difficult. Dean was always pushing himself, even without his dad telling him to.

That boy was born with a strength like no one Bobby had ever seen. He had also been through more torture and heartache than anyone he ever knew. Most recently, were the events that led them to where they were right now. He was pushed to a new level of torture, given a new heartache that he should never have to carry.

Bobby carefully unbuckled the restraints, making sure Dean was still unconscious. He picked him up and laid him on the floor, he flipped the mattress, giving Dean a clean place to lay. He then laid Dean back on the bed, this time he laid him on his stomach, reattaching the restraints on his arms and legs in case he happened to wake up again.

Bobby continued cleaning Dean and tending to his wounds. He couldn't help but notice every small scar that covered his body. Every reminder of the life he had. A reminder of every battle he had fought.

Bobby remembered the time Dean was around 11 years old and he was playing with a new knife. Sam had been irritating him that day, no matter how much Dean asked him to stop, Sammy was wanting his brother's attention. He came running into the room where Dean was sitting, knife in hand, cutting on a piece of wood. Sam ran straight into Dean, causing him to stab the knife into his leg. Bobby never heard a boy scream in terror the way Sam did at the sight of Dean's blood. Dean remained calm.

His eyes showed pain, but his voice was steady and calmed Sam. He told him he was okay, and no matter how many times Sam apologized, Dean reassured him he knew it was only an accident and Sam didn't mean for anything to happen. Bobby removed the knife. Dean's body flinched with the pain, but he held his crying brother close. He didn't even let Sam know when Bobby was stitching him up. His obligation to Sam was stronger than his need to care for himself.

Bobby couldn't remember it ever being any different. From the time he had first met them, to now, Dean was always strong for his brother. He wasn't fighting for himself, not right now. Right now, he would be just as happy giving up, ending the pain and suffering. He was fighting for Sam. He couldn't give in, he had to stay for his brother. Sam needed him more than Dean needed the suffering to end.

Bobby couldn't even begin to imagine what Dean had been through. He was always good at understanding him. Understanding the fight that he felt he had to fight. The fight for everyone else. But, now, he had suffered in a way that was unimaginable. He couldn't understand where Dean had gathered the strength to survive, the strength to fight, not once, but twice.

Now, he was having to fight, not only the memories and physical effects, but the supernatural as well.

"How's he doing?" John's voice broke Bobby from his thoughts and memories.

Bobby just shrugged. He really wasn't sure how he was doing. But, he felt if he spoke he would end up releasing tears he had been fighting back. He choked back the lump of tears.

"Almost got him cleaned up." Bobby choked back the tears again. "You mind getting him some clean boxers and sweatpants?"

"Yeah, sure." John replied, leaving to retrieve the clothes.

Bobby finished cleaning him and knelt at the edge of the bed, in front of Dean's face. "You gotta hang in there for me, kid. I can't lose you. Your dad, Sam, and me, we all three need you. The fight is almost over, you just gotta keep hanging on." A tear slipped down Bobby's cheek as John placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

Bobby hadn't even noticed John returned. He quickly dried the stray tear from his cheek and rose to his feet. Choking away the lump in his throat.

"Help me get him dressed, then we'll get him turned onto his back."

Without a word John followed Bobby's command. Bobby released the restraints on Dean's legs and helped John get Dean's boxers and pants pulled around his waist. He then undid the restraints around his wrists and together they turned Dean unto his back. Once Dean was in position they reattached the restraints.

"I'm gonna take care of this dirty stuff, get some fresh towels and water. Then we need to wake him and get him to drink some of this brew." Bobby informed John as he gathered the things and left the room. Really, it could have waited, but Bobby needed to get away. He had to get a break before he lost it.

He couldn't continue watching his boy suffer. Even though he was resting now, he knew there was more to come, and he needed to take a moment before he continued. He made his way into the bathroom, pressed his back against the locked door and slid to the floor. His knees bent to his chest and his face buried in his hands. His cap sat on the floor at his feet. The old man sat and cried silent tears for a boy he called his own.

He cried because he understood. He cried because he reminded him so much of the life he had lived. He cried for the lost childhood they shared. He cried for the struggles they both faced. He cried for the love of a parent that they missed out on. He cried for the supernatural that brought them together but also ruined both of their lives. He cried because he couldn't hold the emotions any longer.

Bobby always appeared tough. Only Dean knew better. Dean always tried to appear tough too, but Bobby could see right through him. They were both so much alike. Bobby knew if the shoe was on the other foot, Dean would be the one hiding to cry in silence.

Bobby took another moment to collect himself and dry the salted tears from his face. He splashed some water on the overly exhausted face looking back at him through the newly replaced mirror. Bobby knew what it felt like to hate the person staring back. He knew what it was like to want to shatter that person. But, now was not the time. Now was the time to take care of Dean. To make sure he was okay. To make sure he survived.

Bobby placed his cap back on his head and grabbed some clean towels, filling the bucket with fresh warm water. He opened the door, put on his brave face, and headed back to the panic room where Dean awaited with his dad and brother.

"You wanna leave for this?" Bobby asked Sam.

Sam shook his head.

"I can't guarantee it ain't gonna be hard. I don't know what to expect."

"I know."

Bobby nodded. "Alright, but if you need to leave it'll be okay, I think we'll all understand."

Sam nodded.

Bobby knelt beside Dean. "Hey, Dean, need you to wake up now." He gave him a shake on his shoulder.

Dean grumbled a little but didn't wake.

"Come on boy, don't make me do this the hard way. I need you to wake up for me."

Dean still didn't show any signs of waking.

Bobby released a hard sigh, picking up the cup of brew. "This ain't gonna be pretty." He said as he placed one hand under Dean's head, raising it from the bed and started pouring the liquid into Dean's mouth.

After a couple chokes and coughs Dean's eyes opened as he tried to fight away from Bobby.

"Oh, no you don't. We didn't just go through what we did to stop now. You gotta drink this stuff rather you want to or not." Bobby demanded as he continued to pour it into Dean's mouth.

He tried to spit it out, tried not to drink it, but wasn't given much of a choice. Sure, some of it went into is lungs. But, so did the vomit earlier. Bobby just prayed the boy didn't end up catching pneumonia. After forcing the entire cup into Dean, he laid his head back and gave him a break.

Dean fought with everything he had left. He tossed his head from side to side. He choked and gaged. He releases some hisses that didn't belong to him. Then, he started throwing up the same green looking puss that had boiled out of his skin.

Bobby quickly turned his head to the side. He was already prepared for the throw up. He had placed a towel under his head to soak it up and had the water and towels ready to clean him when he was finished. He waited for Dean to stop vomiting and his breathing to become normal before lifting his head and forcing Dean to drink again.

This time, Dean started fighting harder. John stepped over, placing his hand on Dean's forehead, keeping him from tossing his head away from Bobby. Dean had started trying to fight with his body but he was too weak to even try to fight the restraints.

Another round of fighting the effects and vomiting, followed by a repeat of forced drinks and more of the green, puss throw up. After the third time, Dean's body gave out to the exhaustion as it fell back into unconsciousness. Bobby cleaned him up again, leaving him to rest from the day's events.

"How often do we have to do that to him?" Sam questioned.

"Every couple of hours." Bobby replied, exhaustion filling his voice.

"Is it always going to be that hard on him?"

"Don't know."

"Hey, Sam." John interrupted. "It's getting late and we've all had a long day, why don't you head on to bed. Your brother will be fine, we'll take care of him, and I'm sure you'll have a better morning if you sleep in your bed tonight."

Sam pouted, not wanting to leave his brother but ended up doing as his dad ordered and he stomped upstairs to his room.

John patted Bobby's shoulder. "How about you go get you some sleep too. I can give him the next drink in two hours. Its going to wear us all down if we don't take shifts. I think you've exhausted yourself more than I have."

Bobby agreed. He made sure John understood what to do and John agreed if he needed him then he would wake him. Bobby headed to his bed and John sat in the chair at the foot of the bed. He settled in, setting a timer for 2 hours in case he drifted to sleep.

John sat and watched his oldest son sleep. Even though his eyes were closed and a form of unconsciousness had filled him, he didn't appear to be getting much rest. His body twitched with the fight taking place inside of him. Pain and fear creased across his face. His fists tightened into balls then loosened. His body would arch against the restraints, then his muscles would completely relax.

His head shifted from side to side with groans of agony. His closed eyes would squeeze even tighter. His boy was in so much distress, so much discomfort. John's heart sunk.

He had always counted on Dean. He had always been his backbone, his rock, the thing that kept him going. He was always able to fight the good fight, to hunt the monsters, absentminded, because he knew Dean would take care of things. He knew Dean would do whatever needed to make sure his brother was safe and taken care of.

He never imagined that would include some of the things he had done. He never imagined his faith in Dean meant the kid would sell himself, like a prostitute. At least he never completely crossed that line, not that John knew of anyhow. But still, a sexual act is a sexual act, no matter how it occurs. And, Dean had taken it upon himself to use his own body to take care of John's responsibilities.

John should have been the one to be there, to make sure his boys were taken care of, both of them. Instead, he depended on a child to take care of things. A child who had to grow up way too fast. A child who never had a parent to teach him how to do the things that were forced upon him.

Bobby was the closest thing to a parent Dean had when he was younger. John was never there, and when he was, he was more of a drill sergeant. He would work on training Dean to be a hunter. He would stay drunk and visit the bars as much as he could. There were so many nights when he should have been home, when he wasn't hunting, that he never made it back to his boys. Instead, he found himself waking at another woman's home. Waking in the arms of someone who was so far from being his love.

He would stumble into the place they were calling home, and collapse on the bed. Dean would take care of his hangover. He would make sure Sam was taken care of while John slept off the night before. Even when he was there, he wasn't really there.

John's heart ached with that thought. His mind wandered back to those times. Adding what he already knew and what he had recently learned, his eyes filled with tears of regret. John would push Dean. He would stumble in from a drunken night at 2 in the morning, waking Dean in the process. Dean would always help him to bed, help him undress, take care of him. And, in return, John would slur hatred at him and order him to run miles while him and Sam slept.

Dean never complained. He never disobeyed. He would make it back about the time Sammy would wake. He would be so exhausted, covered in sweat, but Sammy always came first. He would make sure his brother had his breakfast, and depending on John's alertness and mood, he would turn cartoons on for him to watch. Then he would make sure his dad was good before heading to the shower to care of himself.

John realized now, he should have sent Dean back to bed. He shouldn't have ever put him in the position to take care of his drunken stooper, but when he did, he should have sent him back to bed instead of making him run. He should have allowed his son the rest he needed. He should have been sober enough to take care of Sam, the way a father should have, when he was home.

He remembered one incident clearly. He had been out on a hunt. Had told Dean he would be back in three days, but the hunt went longer than expected. Eight days later he returned to his boys. They were staying in a run-down motel room. It wasn't the safest place, but it was attached to a truck stop that had a café and small convenience store in it. Between the truck stop and the motel was a laundry mat. He knew his boys would have what they needed, so he didn't worry.

The only thing was, he didn't think about the most important thing, he didn't leave them the money, or food, they needed for an 8-day hunt. It was early morning, around 3 a.m. when John returned home from the hunt. He felt the anger rise inside his chest when he walked into the room and found his youngest boy asleep in his bed, but his oldest nowhere to be found.

In a rushed panic Dean hurried inside the room minutes after his dad had returned home. He hadn't expected him and tried to hurry and finish his job as soon as he heard the roar of the impala. John didn't know, he didn't see what happened while he was gone. The only thing he knew was that Dean had left Sam alone in the middle of the night.

Dean was 12 years old, plenty old enough to start noticing girls. John wondered if that's where his son was. If he had left his little brother alone so he could go out with some girl. The anger just built the longer he stood and stared at his oldest son. Dean stood nervously in front of the closed motel door. He looked a wreck, but John didn't seem to notice.

Dean had barely been able to catch his breath from rushing back to the room before his dad made his way toward him, grabbing Dean's shirt collar, and pushing him back out the door. He didn't want to wake Sam and he figured if Dean had left him alone all night then he would be okay a few minutes longer.

John pulled him away from the door, into a dark walkway that ran beside the motel. Dean stumbled under his dad's force. His little body was already exhausted from the night.

"I want an explanation, NOW!" John shouted as he slammed his son into the brick wall beside them.

Dean was speechless he didn't know what to say. His mind was already twisting into itself with the recent activity he had just engaged in.

"I… I…" Dean knew if he didn't give his dad an answer his punishment would only be worse. "I didn't expect you back." That was the lamest thing he could have said, and he knew it. But, it was the only thing he could get to come out.

John's fist waisted no time connecting with Dean's face. Another to his stomach, causing him to double over with a grunt of pain. John pulled him up and held him against the wall, one hand pressed against his shoulder, the other connecting a balled-up fist with where ever it landed.

Once John's anger settled and he was afraid he would seriously hurt Dean if he beat on him anymore, he released his hold on him. Dean slumped to the ground, curling into a ball with a painful moan.

"On your feet now, boy!" John growled out his command.

With painful effort, Dean did as he was ordered and struggled to his feet. He used the wall behind him to hold himself on his feet.

"Run, 5 miles. I expect you back in two hours, you hear me?"

"Yes, sir." Dean knew that was nearly impossible. It would take every bit of strength and determination he had on a good day, and so far, this was not a good day.

"When you're done, I want 50 sit-ups, followed by 50 one handed push-ups, rotate the hand with each push-up. You got it?"

Dean nodded. "Yes sir." And he turned from his father and took off on a run. He knew his dad wouldn't keep track of the time, he was going to just lay down and sleep, but he still needed to make it as close to that as possible.

Dean knew if he didn't do exactly as his dad ordered and he was caught, he would have more than just a little hell to pay. So, he did exactly as he was told.

John did exactly what Dean had expected. He entered the room, checked on his youngest son, and removing the majority of his clothing and boots, he laid under his covers and fell asleep, not giving another thought to the son who was enduring a punishment far greater than he should have been able to handled.

That was the only time John had beat him like that, then followed it with such a harsh training punishment, but he was exhausted and pissed, so he wasn't really thinking at the time. And, if he had known what he knew now, that his son had spent the night on his knees, taking the abuse of other men so they could have enough food, then he wouldn't have even punished him. He would have sent him to bed to rest.

But, he didn't know. And Dean made sure he never knew. Not until recently. He knew Dean was already past his ability to cope when he had returned home, but instead of disobeying or arguing, he took his dad's punishment without a word.

The alarm charmed, pulling John from his thoughts. Two hours were finished, time for the next dose of brew to be forced into his already suffering son.


	36. Chapter 36

**HAPTER 36**

Not much had changed from the last time he had forced Dean to drink the brew. He wouldn't wake on his own, John figured there was no reason to even try. He held his head in his hand and forced the liquid into his mouth.

After sputtering and spitting, his fight seemed to weaken and he accepted the fluid that he couldn't fight away. He accepted it but followed it up with more of the green colored vomit that covered his chest and pooled around his neck. After a moment's rest, John forced the second cup, receiving the same reaction as the first cup. After the third dose and Dean had finished his vomiting, falling back into a form of unconsciousness, John cleaned his son and sat back in the chair.

He set the alarm and laid his head against the table beside him. He hadn't realized he dozed off until the alarm sounded. Weary and exhausted he pulled himself out of the chair and forced himself to cause more suffering upon his son. Dean's body bucked against the effects of the brew. He was too exhausted for his fight to matter. He wasn't able to put any force behind it.

John wondered if Dean even knew what was happening. If he knew where he was and the reason behind the obvious torture. He wondered if Dean even realized he was being tortured. Or, if it didn't feel like torture to him. Perhaps, Dean was still locked inside himself, the possession still having power over him.

He didn't show any signs of acknowledgement. He didn't seem to know, or care, who was around him. John didn't even know if his son was still inside. Maybe he was nothing but an empty shell, just a body. His mind could have been destroyed, leaving the nothingness of his son behind.

He longed for nothing more than a sign that his oldest son was still there, that he knew John was there. He needed a sign to tell him that Dean would be okay. Instead, Dean laid in a restless form of unconsciousness.

Bobby had told him they would need to keep him restrained and give him the brew for at least a week. He also warned, depending on the severity, it might take longer than a week. They were only on day one, John knew it was ridiculous to expect a positive sign so early in the process, but that didn't keep him from longing for one.

He sat and watched his son, noticing his sunken features. His discomfort. The signs of the fight going on inside his head. He eyed the opened wounds that looked like burns that had burst open. They didn't ooze the green puss anymore, instead his body was being rid of that through the vomit induced by the brew they were forcing into him.

John never imagined he would ever have to force his own son into torture. He never imagined he would be sitting in a room, like this, making his own son sick, giving him something he knew was causing an unwelcomed vomit.

Dean moaned as he slowly moved his head from side to side. He tried to curl into himself but was stopped by the restraints. He was in obvious pain. Pain that John could do nothing about. Pain that he didn't have a clue where it was coming from. Dean's breathing would change without warning. He would go from normal breathing to hitched breaths. There were even times John worried his son had completely stopped breathing.

The alarm sounded again, pulling John back out of his trance. He lifted Dean's head in his hand and placed the cup to his lips. Dean didn't react. It was like he didn't even feel him, didn't notice anyone had touched him or was even beside him. It wasn't until the liquid started pouring down his throat that he reacted.

Gasps of breath, attempts to pull his weakened head away, followed by green vomit. Three times. Three times then he was cleaned. The same as two hours ago, and two hours before that. The same as what would take place in another two hours. Dean seemed to be weakening with each time the liquid was forced into him.

John had lost count on how many times he had sent his son into such discomfort. He worked mindlessly around the sound of the alarm.

Bobby had entered the room, finding John staring at Dean in a trance. He was lost in his own thoughts, lost in the fact his boy was so broken. The alarm sounded and John reacted, pulling himself from the chair to force another moment of torture on his oldest boy. Bobby placed his hand on John's chest.

"I got this." He informed him.

John didn't even seem to startle. He just sat back in the chair, watching Bobby take over the same routine he had done so many times. Cleaning Dean again once it was over. John set the alarm without thinking.

"Why don't you go get you some rest." Bobby suggested to John. "I got this for a while."

"He's just getting weaker." John stated, not pulling his sight from his boy.

"The possession is getting weaker, Dean is still strong as hell, he's just not able to pull himself away from it yet. Give him some more time, this is just beginning. We still have several days."

"What if he isn't able to handle it?"

"He's handled it so far."

"Yeah, he's handled a hell of a lot, but, how much is too much for him?"

"Don't know if anything is too much for him. That boy is special. He's got a strength that's stronger than anything supernatural. He's able to fight through the toughest of times. He's able to survive things that I've seen kill others. And, he's still fighting through this. If something takes that kid out, it's certain no one would have been able to survive it, I guarantee you that!"

"Yeah, I know, it's just hard to see him this weak, this broken."

"I know." Bobby sighed. "Why don't you go get some rest, it'll be easier once you're not so exhausted."

John nodded his head, standing to his feet and half stumbling from the room. "You'll let me know if anything changes?" He asked Bobby before leaving.

"I will."

John nodded again and headed upstairs.

He had fallen into his bed, exhausted, both physically and mentally. His body ached from his tense muscles he couldn't seem to release. His mind spun with so many thoughts, so many concerns. He needed it to turn off, just for a moment. He needed a break from the self-hatred he was feeling. He just needed sleep. He needed to allow darkness to overtake him, to shut out the thoughts of his son, the worries for his dying family.

Once he had removed his boots and outer shirts he collapsed on his stomach, burying his face in his pillow, shutting out the light and sounds that seemed to flood into the darkened silence. Sleep had taken over as the silent darkness filled his mind, pushing out the worries of the night before.

It didn't take long for Sam to wake and join Bobby at Dean's bedside.

"How's he doing?" Sam questioned, not noticing any change in his appearance.

"He's hanging in there. Weak, but he's a fighter, he'll make it through this."

Sam nodded. "Any change?"

"Not according to your dad, and not that I've been able to see."

"Where is Dad?"

"Sent him to bed, he needed rest."

Sam sat in a chair that he had pulled over to sit near Bobby and Dean. "How's Dad doing?"

Bobby shrugged his shoulders. "He's hanging in there too. Isn't easy seeing your own son hurting like this."

"Yeah." Sam replied. Silence filled the air and had settled around them before Sam spoke again. "Guess that's how you're feeling right now too, huh?"

Bobby looked up at Sam confused. "What's that mean, boy?"

"I mean, Dean's always been like a son to you, we both have. So, I figured you'd feel the same way Dad is right now. Seeing your own son hurting the way he is."

Bobby lowered his head, wiping a weary hand down his face. "Kid, Dean's like more than a son to me. He always has been. He reminds me so much of myself. He's one hell of a fighter and has seen more than one person should ever see. But, he fights the fight to save those around him, to protect his family."

"Is that what you did?"

"I had to protect myself and my mom, yes."

"From the supernatural?"

"No, from my own dad."

"What was he like? Your dad?"

Bobby sighed. "He was a bastard, a drunken, abusive, bastard."

Sam nodded, understanding Bobby's meaning behind those words. "Did you win? Where you able to protect your mom?"

"Yeah, I killed the son of a bitch."

"Sounds like he deserved it."

"He did."

"Dean would kill to protect me, I know he would. He says he won't harm a human, that we don't kill anything that's not supernatural, but, I know if he had to, he would."

"He would." Bobby agreed. "He'd do anything to protect you."

"I know." Sam dropped his head as a tear rolled from his eye.

"He's going to be okay. He'll fight, as long as his mind holds you in it, he'll fight. And, I guarantee you, if his mind goes, you'll be the last thing in it to go."

Sam let the tears fall as he sat there. He knew Dean would fight for him. He knew even if he wanted to give up, he never would. Sam moved from the chair and sat on the floor beside the bed his brother laid on.

"You remember, you told me I needed to remind you that you gotta fight. I needed to help you remember when your mind couldn't think straight. Well, I'm reminding you now. I'm here, and I need you. I need my big brother. Dean, I can't do this without you. I know you're doing everything you can, I know you're fighting damn hard. But, I need you to fight this just a little harder. For me, okay?"

Sam laid his head on the mattress beside Dean's body. He could feel the heat radiating from him. It was like it was a mixture of a fever and an oven. The burning blisters evident of the fact Dean was literally burning up. The thing that had tried to gain possession of him, used its last effort to attempt to destroy Dean's body.

Sam wondered if his insides looked as bad as his skin. He wondered since he was burned and blistered on his skin, if he was equally as bad internally, or even perhaps it was worse. Maybe he didn't have any insides left, maybe he was being held together by ashes and scars.

That's really all that held Dean together anyhow. Ashes and scars. Mentally that's the only things Dean held. He lived through the battles of life, some of them burning away the very person he was, some of them cutting him to shreds, leaving the wounds to heal and scar.

He wondered what type of person his brother would be if they didn't fight the supernatural. Dean had told him he would still be the same protective big brother he had always been. He told him that started before their mom was ever killed. He also told him he believed who they were now was who they would have been no matter what.

In a way, Sam could believe that. But, he also knew there were parts of both of them that only existed because of the things they had seen. The things they had been forced to do. But, did that really change them? Or just intensify what was already there? Was Dean always a fighter? Would he have been the type to get into fights at school? Probably. He probably would have found himself in a lot of fights, not because he was hated, but because he would be defending the underdog, sticking up for the ones who couldn't stick up for themselves.

Bobby had said it was hard to watch a son suffer this much, but truth is, Dean had always been like a father to him, and it was hard to see the man who had given him so much, the man who had taught him so much, the man who had been his rock, broken in so many ways. Suffering in a way that he should never have to face. He deserved so much better. He deserved for the suffering to be over. But, Sam needed him. He needed Dean to continue to suffer to fulfill his own selfish needs.

That thought made him feel like the lowest person ever. He couldn't believe he could even wish for his brother to continue suffering. The thing is, even if he didn't get better, even if his suffering continued, he would still want him to keep fighting it, because he couldn't go on without his big brother.

He stroked Dean's sweat filled hair, laying the stray hairs down flat. With that small gesture, Dean reacted to touch for the first time since this started. He moaned a weakened sound and turned his head toward Sam's touch. The longer Sam stroked his hair, the more Dean seemed to press his head against the touch of his brother.

It was like he was trying to tell him he was still there. He still remembered him. He was still fighting. Fighting to get back to Sammy. Fighting to regain himself, to unlock what had been locked away. It wasn't easy, it may have possibly been the hardest fight of his life, but he was trying. With all his might, with every last bit of strength left in him, he was fighting to return to the one person who needed him the most. To the one person he had to return to in order to keep him safe.

The alarm sounded. Both Bobby and Sam hated to break the connection that had been made, but they knew it was a necessary evil. Sam chose to lift Dean's head, an attempt to keep the connection as long as he could. The first cup, Dean didn't seem to resist as much. He seemed to still be lost in the need to satisfy Sam's selfishness. He seemed to know Sam needed him to do this, but once the bile raised in his throat and exited through his lips, the connection was lost.

Dean's stomach spasmed with the second cup. He heaved and gaged through the entire thing. Once it was finished and settled in his stomach he vomited it back up, releasing more of the green colored puss that had seemed to run rapid through him. He tried to resist the third cup, tried to turn his head away. He didn't want it. He didn't want to feel the way it attacked his body, but he was too weak to fight against Bobby as he forced it into his mouth and it slid down his throat.

By this time, Dean had learned just to swallow, or open his throat and let it slip down on its own. There was no point in fighting, he only ended up sucking it into his lungs, causing him a painful cough and trouble breathing. He gripped his hands into fists. Sam rested one hand on Dean's fist, and he released his tension long enough to grasp Sam's hand.

It was like he was searching for comfort, searching for something to make it easier. Something to make this pain and discomfort go away. He needed something to hold him together, and Sam's hand happened to be there.

He gave it a tight squeeze as he started throwing up the final cup of brew. His eyes rolled in the back of his head as he moaned with the gags and vomit that spewed over him. His back arched and he pulled against the restraints, tightening his grip on Sam's hand.

They could hear him gurgling and choking before he released the final vomit from deep inside. His body fell limp, his eyes closed, and he lost the grip on his brother's hand.

That had been the first sign that he was still inside, somewhere, locked away, fighting to return. That was the first sign that he knew there was someone else there, someone who held great importance to him. Rather he knew it was Sam or not was unsure, but it was certain he knew the touch was important.

Sam and Bobby sat back down, allowing Dean the rest he needed. He didn't seem to be able to lay still. He moaned and tried to pull his knees to his chest, tried to roll over onto his side, both actions were failures due to the restraints that held him.

"Should we take the restraints off?" Sam questioned.

"It's not safe, don't know how he's going to react the rest of the time."

"What about letting him change positions?"

"The only other way we could move him and keep him restrained is to put him on his stomach. That would make it kind of impossible to force liquid down his throat, and I'm sure, with the recent events, he wouldn't appreciate being laid on his stomach."

Sam nodded, understanding Bobby's meaning, but feeling bad about Dean's discomfort. He wished he could take it away, Sam would endure the misery for Dean if he could. He would take it all away and give Dean back his happiness and livelihood.

He wondered if Dean was ever truly happy. Sure, there had been happy moments, but he wasn't even sure if Dean ever held true happiness in himself. He was always a jokester. He would play pranks and act so immature at times. He would act inappropriate at the wrong times, make jokes when he should be serious. Sam wondered if that was Dean's way of being happy, or if that was a disguise, making himself look happy when he really wasn't.

He knew Dean's 'laugh in the face of danger' was only an act. He had figured that out at a young age. He had figured out that when Dean felt uncomfortable he would often make jokes or act immature. But, he didn't know if that was his way of being happy. How could he be happy? Sam wouldn't be happy if he had Dean's life. But, Dean always seemed so proud of him, and the glow in his eyes when he talked about Sam was unmistakable. Perhaps Sam is what truly made Dean happy. Maybe he was the one thing Dean felt proud of, the one thing he felt he had done right.

The ache in Sam's chest grew bigger with each thought. He wanted his brother back. He wanted to be able to talk to him, to know he was okay. He needed his comfort and quirkiness. God, Sam needed Dean so badly right now.

The alarm sounded, time for the next round of drinking and vomiting. Sam wondered if Dean would ever get weak enough to actually get some rest. His body didn't seem to still, his mind never seemed to stop. Perhaps, this time around he would exhaust himself to let his body and mind stop fighting and gain some strength instead.

Night fell, John woke and made his way back to his son's side.

"How's he doing?" John questioned when he saw his son still looking pale and broken.

"Showed small signs that he's still in there, still fighting, still fighting for Sam."

"Yeah, if he's fighting for anyone it's gonna be his brother, that's for sure."

"Dad, he reacted to my touch, he leaned into it." Sam informed him.

John gave Sam a slight grin, he was glad Dean had given his brother the reassurance he needed.

"He woke or spoke yet?" John questioned.

Both men shook their heads.

"Besides while vomiting, that's been about it." Bobby replied.

John drew in a deep breath, releasing a sigh. "I'll take it from here, why don't you two take a break and get you some more rest."

After exchanging a few other words of conversation Bobby and Sam headed out of the room leaving John to cover the night shift.

Everything went as expected. Exactly the same as the night before. Dean's strength fell out of his body with each bought of vomit. His mind and body fighting against the effects. John's heart ached as he watched his son struggle. Exactly the same as the night before.

"You gotta make it through this, you gotta be okay." John said to his son as he forced the next round of liquids down him.


	37. Chapter 37

**CHAPTER 37**

The one thing none of the men could understand is how Dean couldn't see worth in himself. He always sees himself as unworthy of anything. If he knew what they were doing right now. If he knew the sacrifices they were making for him, he would tell them to stop. He would tell them he wasn't worth it.

But the truth is Dean was worthier than any of the other 3 men in that room. He deserved so much more than what he has gotten out of life. He sacrificed and sacrificed and sacrificed for everyone else, but never saw himself worthy enough for others to sacrifice for.

He had such low self-esteem. Of course, they couldn't understand why. If he lived any other life he would be a god to so many. He had talents that hadn't even had the chance to be discovered. He had the ability to do so much. And, he had the looks that made every girl pass out when they saw him. He was the most considerate, compassionate person there was. Sure, his job didn't allow for the sensitive side of him to be exposed, but they all knew it was there.

Hours after hours, day after day, the same routine, the same building heartaches and worries. The same hopes that Dean would start pulling through, start growing strength.

It was the middle of the night. No one was sure of the day or time anymore. It had all been a blur of emotions and shifts and alarms and brew and green vomit and cleaning the lifeless body and more emotions and more blurring of the sounds of the alarm.

The alarm sounded. It was John's shift, again. He was lost in a fog of memories and a trance of an emotionless gaze. He moved without thought. He gathered the liquid and the cup, lifted his son's head and started pouring the first cup down. It went without a fight. Followed by gagging and heaving but no vomit. The second cup went down much the same, after the third one the vomit came, not as much as before, not the same dark green color. This time it was different, like there was more brew in his vomit than the green goo from the supernatural.

John cleaned his son, the same as before. Mindless and lost in the routine. Once he finished, he sat back in the chair, still just as mindless as when he first stood up.

"Dddd…ddddaaaa….ddddad?"

John startled at the word. At first, he thought Dean was only making sounds, the same as his moaning and groaning he had been doing from the beginning. But, with the end of the sounds he heard it clearly. Dean had just said 'dad'.

John's head flew up and looked at his son. Dean laid with his eyes half open looking back.

"Dean! Hey there, Champ. How you feeling?"

Dean slowly closed his eyes, held them closed for a few seconds, then reopened them, this time wider than the last time. "Dad?" Dean mumbled.

"It's okay, Champ. I'm here."

Dean weakly pulled on the restraints around his wrists. Panic instantly filled his eyes. "Dad? wwwhat? Please!"

"It's okay, Dean. No one is going to hurt you, you're just restrained for your own safety."

Dean's mind still wasn't clear. He wasn't sure what was going on, what was happening to him, where he was at. "Please, don't. I'll be good, I won't fight. Please." He begged.

"Dean, son, it's okay. I promise, it's just me, Bobby and Sam here."

"Sam. Sammy?"

"Yeah, Sammy."

"Sammy, where's Sammy? Don't let him get hurt! Please!"

"Hey, calm down there." John laid his hand on Dean's chest to calm him as he started trying to fight the restraints to check on his brother.

Dean sucked in a deep breath and groan with his dad's touch. The pressure against the opened wounds seemed to hurt him instantly upon contact.

John picked up his cell and called Sam's. He was concerned to leave Dean alone right now but knew he wouldn't settle without seeing his brother.

"Dad? Is everything okay?" Sam sounded like he had woken up but his voice was full of concern.

"Yeah, yeah, it is. Hey look, Dean's awake, the thing is he's not really sure what's going on or anything, but he's needing to see you, to know you're okay."

"On my way!"

Sam rushed down to the basement. He had been waiting days for his brother to wake up. He wasn't going to lose the chance to see him, to talk to him.

He rushed to Dean's side. He was still struggling, getting more irritated with every passing minute that John tried to calm him. He was calling for Sam, asking to see him, okay, more like demanding not asking.

"Hey, Dean, I'm right here, it's okay." Sam said as he knelt beside his brother.

"Sammy, Sammy, you need to go, get safe."

"I am safe, Dean. So are you, that's why we have the restraints on you, to keep you safe."

"No, you can't let them hurt you too."

"I'm okay. No one is hurting you."

"They will. They'll be back."

"No, they won't. You're at Bobby's. All the bad people are gone."

Dean looked confused, moving his eyes around the room. "Bbbobby's?"

"Yeah, Bobby's. See, somehow, somewhere, you had something possess you. But not like a demon or anything we would recognize. This is something more ancient. Something Bobby had to research."

"Pppppossssesssion?" Dean stuttered out. He was trying to make sense of what his brother was saying but with each passing moment it seemed to get harder and harder.

"Yeah, look, all you need to really know, right now, is that you're safe. I'm safe. And, Bobby and Dad and me, we're helping you so you'll get better. Okay?"

Dean nodded his head slowly as his eyes drifted open and closed.

"You rest, get your strength back. You just gotta trust me on this, okay?"

"Okay." Dean replied sounding like he was in the middle of falling asleep.

Sam brushed his hand across Dean's hair and down his cheek, closing his eyes the rest of the way as he slid his hand over them. Dean didn't reopen them. He was back asleep.

Sam sighed and arched his body in defeat. "You think he'll remember any of this?" He asked his dad.

"I don't know."

Sam nodded.

"At least we know he's still in there, still fighting, and getting better."

"Yeah, but he's still stuck in a bad place in his head. I hate that he's tied down to this bed."

"I know. But, we have to keep him that way. We gotta make sure everyone, including Dean, stays safe."

"I know, but I also know just what I witnessed that happened to him while he was tied down. And then there was the most recent time that who knows what the hell happened and you know being tied down has to cause him more mental distress than we could possibly know."

"I know that, Sam. But there's nothing we can do about it, not until we know for sure that Dean is completely Dean and nothing else is tagging along in his body. As much as this might be hurting him right now, it's gonna be worse if we mess up and allow something to keep hold of him."

"I know. I just wonder if he's going to have his memories back. If he'll remember the stuff he can't."

"Don't know the answer to that, but I sure as hell hope not."

"Yeah, me too."

They both sat in silence, their own thoughts of what ifs and what might be running through their heads.

"Dad, I know he's strong, but do you think if he can remember things, that he's going to be strong enough to get through it, to be okay?"

"I think we're going to need to be there for him, no matter if he remembers things or not. He wasn't exactly in a good place when this started, so I don't expect that to change any. The thing is. I know he's strong enough to fight his way through anything and end up on top. But, my concern is going to be how much of it he hides away and tries to avoid, how much he tries to deny and how hard he tries to pretend he's okay when he's not." 

"Isn't that pretty much the way he's been his entire life?"

John chuckled. "Yeah, it is. But, this is going to be different. This isn't going to be something he can just shut out and deal with later. He's gonna have to hit this head on, deal with it immediately. As soon as we are done with everything in this damn room, our concentration needs to be on his mental wellbeing. Got it?"

"Yes, sir. I got it." Sam nodded.

The alarm sounded, another 2 hours passed too quickly.

Dean moaned and groaned. "Leave me alone, just let me sleep."

"Dean, we can't, I'm sorry son but we gotta do this, you gotta drink it." John tried to sympathize, tried to explain, but Dean was not going to cooperate easily.

John held his head in his hand, the same as he had done so many times before. Sam sat on the floor beside the bed, reassuring Dean it was for his own good. He spat and sputtered with the liquid that he was forced to drink. He moaned and groaned when it hit his stomach, causing him to feel nauseated. After he didn't vomit with the first cup, he was given the second. This time it made him throw up. He cringed at the bitterness of the vomit. And tried to pull away from his dad with the third drink, but Sam had helped hold him still.

Dean felt like shit. He tried to fight against his dad. He tried to keep him from giving him the stuff that made him feel so sick. He didn't understand what was going on, why he had to drink something so fowl. He tried to pull away but Sam just helped their dad. He held Dean's chest against the bed. Dad held his head so he couldn't turn it away. He even tried to spit it out as it was poured in his mouth but that didn't work either.

He collapsed within himself with exhaustion after they released their hold on him. John waited, and Dean never vomited again, so he washed him clean. Dean didn't seem to react to his dad. Sam laid his head on the mattress beside Dean's. The brothers pressed their heads into each other's and both fell asleep with complete exhaustion.

John watched his boys pull comfort from each other. His mind started going back, remembering all the times they seemed to dwell in each other. The times they were each other's comfort. It was usually Sam holding onto his big brother, but really it didn't matter, it was a benefit to both of them. Much the same as this moment. They were both needing the comfort of each other.

Another two hours chimed with the sound of the alarm. Dean voiced his opinion about being forced to drink something so terrible instead of being allowed to sleep. He ended losing his battle against his dad and vomited the bitter, sourness of the green goo that was inside him.

Morning came. Not that it mattered when you were woken every two hours. Shift changed. John went to bed. Bobby took his place. His complaining didn't work on Bobby either. He was pleased to see Dean awake. He was happy that he was vomiting less, that meant the possession was leaving his body. But, the same as with John, Dean didn't win his argument and ended with having vomit cleaned off him.

Another shift change, the same routine as the past two hours, only this time, it was Dad again. Sam came and went. He didn't actually take shifts like the other two, he was more of moral support, and to help with the physical restraint as needed.

Another two hours, another night, another new morning, another day came to an end. Dean grew more irritated, more mentally exhausted, with each passing time.

"I swear, Sam washed his feet in this shit and you're making me drink it!" Dean protested.

"Did not!" Sam defended himself. He was equally as exhausted. His mental capacity was filled long ago. He was worn down, worried for his brother, physically exhausted.

"Seriously? Do you two have to argue?" John sighed.

"Well, if you weren't forcing foot wash down my throat maybe I wouldn't have anything to complain about!" Dean snapped.

"Dean, it's not foot wash, and if you would take it willingly then it wouldn't have to be forced." John was too exhausted to even care what his son was complaining about.

"How the hell do you expect me to drink this willingly? And why the hell can't you take these damn cuffs off?"

"Because, we have to make sure the possession is out of you, you know this, we've been over this a hundred times already."

"Well, if you didn't wake me up, just to torture me, a hundred times, then I wouldn't have to ask a hundred times, now would I?"

"Dean, seriously, just stop complaining and do as you're told!"

"Untie me and I will."

"For the last time, no."

"Ugh! Dad! I can't stand being tied down, especially to a damn bed, why the hell don't you get that? Let. Me. Go!"

"Dean, I would if I could, but I can't. Look, I'm trying to understand, I really am. But, I have to do what I have to do. I'm sorry."

"No, you're not! If you gave a damn you would untie me from this damn bed!" Dean slammed the back of his head against the mattress out of frustration. "Look! I'm not possessed, okay?"

"Dean, you were. This will be over soon enough, you just gotta let us do what we need to do." 

"I hate you!" Dean screamed at his dad.

John just sighed and sat back in his chair. "Go to sleep, Dean."

"Don't talk to me." Dean said angrily.

And with that, it was over. They all three fell asleep until the next alarm.

"Dad, please." Dean begged, exhausted.

"I'm sorry, son, I really am."

Dean closed his eyes as he drank the liquid. "It makes me feel so sick."

"I know it does. It's taking the toxins of the possession out of you."

Dean's emotional state was shot, he couldn't handle much more at the moment. "It tastes like…" Dean paused to fight back the nausea feeling that filled him. "Like… they did."

Dean spoke with a blank emotion. He was remembering something, speaking it out loud. Something that Sam and John were both sure they didn't want to hear, but they weren't going to stop him either.

"Like who?" John asked.

"The old truckers. The people who tied me down. Made me… made… I didn't… I couldn't stop them…" Dean started rambling.

John sighed. He for sure didn't want to hear this, but knew Dean needed to say whatever he needed to say. Sam just laid his head beside Dean, still sitting on the floor beside him.

"Do you remember what happened?" Sam asked.

Dean shrugged one shoulder. "I… I don't know… I have… there's so much that won't stop spinning in my head. It doesn't make sense. It's all the same, like a repeat, but different."

"From when you were younger?" Sam questioned, not missing the fact his brother mentioned the old truckers.

"Some, yeah… it's… it's the taste… of that stuff… it tastes like they did, like the way it used to make me throw up after… the way my stomach felt so sick being forced."

Sam swallowed hard. "Like you were when the creep had us captive?"

"Yeah. I… I didn't mean to throw up. I didn't know I did until it had already happened. I don't know… I don't know why. I guess… I don't know…"

"Well, that's understandable, I mean, you were raped, Dean. You were forced to have sex with another man." Sam tried to say it as gentle as he could, but he felt Dean's body tighten and shift. "Dean?"

"What?" Dean was still speaking without emotions, lost in thoughts and memories.

"Was that the first time?"

"What the first time for what?"

"When that creep had us… when I was chained and had to watch him hurt you, and he raped you, was that the first time you had sex with a guy?"

"I mean… I've… I did it… to them… if they wanted… if they paid enough…but… uh…" Dean was stumbling around his words, trying his best to answer his brother's question but not sure how to.

"But, what?"

"There was a time, or two, that they tried, but… I don't know, for whatever reason they couldn't, too small, too young, whatever. Maybe I just fought hard enough? I don't know. But they did… uh… like other stuff… like fingers and… stuff…" Dean's stuttering turned to mumbling as the words blended together.

"But, like, no one had actual intercourse with you? Not until… him?"

"No."

Sam nodded, he was relieved to hear that. He hated that his brother's life was still filled with sexual abuse and pain, but he was thankful he wasn't raped. Attempted, yeah, Dean admitted to that, but they had never succeeded.

"You know, it's okay to feel shitty about all of it, right?" Sam stated once Dean's body had seemed to relax some.

"What?"

"I mean, you try to act like none of it is a big deal. Like you just did what you had to when you were younger and it didn't matter. But, it does. It matters, and I understand you did what you had to, but that doesn't mean it didn't suck. That doesn't mean you liked it or that it didn't cause you mental distress."

"Okay, whatever, Dr. Phil."

"Dean! I'm serious."

"So am I! Sam, I'm fine, okay? Now, just drop it."

"Not until you admit that you didn't enjoy what you had to do."

"It doesn't matter, Sam. It is what it is. It happened, it's over, now drop it."

"Admit it."

"No."

"Then I'm not dropping it!"

"Fine, whatever, Bitch! I hated it, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I fucking hated it! The thought of going out there and putting other men in my mouth, disgusting, dirty, horny men, the thought makes my stomach turn. It did then, and it still does now. But, I had to do what I needed to make sure you were taken care of. So, I sucked it up and did it. Then, the disgust was replaced… or added to… fear… when they started doing things like… using their fingers and having me use mine on them. It hurt, I hated it even more! Between the nausea and pain, it was the worst moments of my life."

Dean paused to catch his breath, and his thoughts. "But then, I'd go back to where we were staying, and I'd see you sleeping, peaceful, not a care in the world. You were fed and dressed and taken care of, and that's all that really mattered. What I had just went through, it didn't matter anymore. As long as you were safe and happy, it was all worth it."

Tears dripped from Sam's eyes and landed on the mattress beneath his head. "Do you ever regret it?"

"No."

"Not at all?"

"No. It kept you healthy and taken care of. You always had everything you needed. I will never regret making sure you were taken care of."

"Does it still bother you? I mean like, do you think about it and it still makes you scared, or hurt, or feel sick?"

Dean sighed. "Yeah, I guess. Especially now, with everything else. But, before all this crap… yeah, I'd think about it, a lot. I know that probably makes me some type of a freak or something."

"No, it makes you normal." John replied.

He had been sitting there, listening to his boys, but he couldn't let Dean think he was a freak because he had thoughts and emotions. Especially with the recent events in his life, he needed Dean to understand that made him normal.

Dean looked at his dad. "How do you figure? I mean, if I hated it as much as I tell myself I did, then why the hell would I even think about it again?"

"Do you enjoy when you think about it?"

"No sir."

"Do you want to think about it?"

"No sir, not really. I mean, it makes me… I guess it makes me feel the same way I did when… back then… and I hate it, I don't want to remember any of it, but I do."

"Dean, look, you can sit there and say you willingly put yourself in that situation all you want. You can say you did what you had to, and that may be true. But, the truth is, you may have put yourself out there, but those sickos took advantage of you. The real truth is, they abused you. Sexually, for sure, but probably physically too, I'm just guessing they weren't all perfect gentlemen."

Dean shook his head, agreeing they weren't exactly nice about anything.

"I don't care if you walked around naked everywhere you went, it doesn't give the right for anyone, man or woman, to put their hands, or anything else, on you. You have every right to hate it, you have every right to feel violated and sickened, because you were."

"I…"

Dean's voice cracked with emotions. This was more than he could handle right now. He didn't know how to process what his dad was saying. A tear slipped from his eye and rolled down his cheek. His forehead crinkled with emotions that ran rapid through his eyes. He closed his eyes, closing out the world around him.

"I…"

He sounded like a lost, confused child. Like someone who was so broken and hurt inside they couldn't even manage the sounds that made the words they wanted to say.

"I… I'm sorry, Dad." Dean almost pouted out as he let the tears fall from his eyes.

John stroked Dean's hair, drying the tears from his face. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Dean leaned his head into his dad's touch. His eyes still closed, he was trying to process what was just said, the conversation that had just taken place. He was trying to find a place inside of him that would allow him to believe his dad's words. A place that would accept that, just possibly, something in his life really wasn't his fault.


	38. Chapter 38

**CHAPTER 38**

Dean had decided he was going to break the cuffs, jump off the bed, and shatter that damn alarm clock against the wall if it went off one more time. It irritated him, every time it would ring. He just wanted it to stop, he wanted all of it to stop.

John gently helped Dean raise his head and rested it in the palm of his hand. Dean was alert enough by now that he knew there was no point in fighting a losing battle, so he gulped the nasty foot wash down as fast as he could.

That taste, the smell, the taste, the memories, the dirty, scum, that taste.

Dean vomited, not the green goo that he had been, he vomited from the memories that ran through his head.

"I… I can't." Dean sobbed. "Please, Dad." He looked at his dad with eyes that begged him to stop.

"I'm sorry. You know we have to."

"I know." Dean practically whispered as he opened his lips for the next dose.

That taste again. That smell that radiated from hot sweaty bodies. The taste of filth, of dirty bodies. The taste that was like foot wash. So… many… times… it never stopped. It looped over and over in his head. It looped over and over in his life. It wouldn't stop. The force, everything, being forced, his life, forced. He couldn't stop it. He couldn't control it. He was so lost; his own control was gone. Had he ever really had control over his own life? Or, did that rest in everyone else's hands too?

He just wanted the taste, the memories to go away. He just wanted them to stop. Why wouldn't it stop? Why did he keep having to replay his life over and over, both in life and in his head?

"Dean, hey son, come back to me."

Dean heard his dad speak but didn't know where he had gone. He couldn't go anywhere, he was stuck to this damn bed. Stuck… tied… restrained… forced… controlled… hurt… taste… no… it. Won't. stop… no… stuck… bed… mattress… forced… stuck…

"Dean! Hey man, come on, snap out of it, please."

He heard his dad again, but, what did he mean? Did he mean to snap, break, out? Out of what? He had no control. No control. No control. He was being forced. Forced to do what everyone else wanted. No control. No control. No. No. No. Nothing. Nothing but force, stuck with the taste that… that turned his stomach, that brought disgust and shame. The taste… the shame… the disgust… the sickness… the dirtiness… the smell… the taste…

Dean tried to force his body to sit up, being stopped by the restraints, as he released the vomit that had been building inside of him. He violently pulled his wrists against the restraints as he wretched and vomited onto himself.

When he was finished, he dropped his body, hard, against the bed, rolling his head back to look as far up to the ceiling as he could. "Please." He pleaded to whoever would listen.

At that moment he didn't know where he was or what was happening to him. He only knew his mind had been spinning with thoughts and he was still restrained, still being forced.

"Shhhh, it's okay, Dean." John cooed softly as he wiped his fingers through Dean's hair. "It's okay, I'm right here, I gotcha, it's okay."

Dean closed his eyes the moment they started filling with tears. "Please, just let me go, I… I don't want to do this anymore. I… I can't, please!" Dean sobbed. "No more, please…" Dean's voice started drifting and slurring and his consciousness followed. "Don't… don't hurt me, please, I… I can't…"

John sighed as he pulled his hand away from the now sleeping Dean. Bobby had entered the room and witnessed most of the current reaction from Dean. John turned and looked at his friend, defeat in his eyes.

"What the hell am I doing?" John sighed. "I can't do this anymore, Bobby. I can't put him through this, it's too hard on him."

"It's saved his life." Bobby reminded him.

"I know, but, if his life is going to be full of fear and hurt then is it really saving him?"

"That's not for us to decide."

The men sat back in silence, watching Dean's restless sleep, until the alarm sounded again. Dean groaned with the sound that had woken him. John sighed as he pushed himself out of the chair to grab the brew. Bobby put his hand out, stopping John from giving it to him.

"Hey there, kid." Bobby drew Dean's attention to him, and away from his dad.

"Bbbobby." Dean stuttered as he tried to get the words out.

"Yeah, it's me. I hear you don't like the special drink I made up for you."

"Tastes like Sammy's foot wash."

Bobby chuckled. "How you feeling?"

"Like I've been drinking Sammy's foot wash."

"That good, huh?"

"Yeah, just peachy!"

"How you really feeling?"

"Like shit!"

"You know why you're here, in this room?"

"You mean why the hell I'm tied to this damn bed and drinking foot wash? No, not really. Something about a possession or something?"

Bobby nodded. "Yeah, something like that. You remember what happened?"

"Uhhh… you're going to need to be more specific there, Bobby."

"Okay. Do you remember going to Kansas?"

"You mean after the crap with me and Sammy? Yeah."

Bobby nodded. "You remember what happened there?"

"I… uh…" Dean pulled his lips between his teeth, his face crinkled and twisted with discomfort and emotions that were running wild. "I… ddd… I don't wanna… I can't… I… uh…"

"You ain't gotta talk about it, not right now. Just wanting to know if you remember, that's all."

"Yeah. I do."

"Good." Bobby said with a nod.

"Good?" Dean questioned, confused why those memories would be good.

"Yeah, it's been a week. If you remember everything that happened, that means the wall that was built, the one to block everything and keep you locked away inside yourself, is gone. Which, means the thing that was possessing you is gone. Besides, I haven't seen any evidence of the green color in your puke in the past 24 hours, so I think you're clear."

"So, I get a clean bill of health?"

"For the loss of possession, yes." Bobby nodded.

"So… you can untie me now?"

"Yup!"

It didn't take John anytime to react as soon as Bobby said the word. He instantly started removing the restraints from his son. Dean just wanted to get off that bed. He had been tied to so many things lately, he was sick of it. But, his weakened body barely allowed him the strength to stay upright while sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I don't have to drink any more of that do I?" Dean questioned.

Bobby chuckled. "No, kid, you can eat real food now."

Dean nodded. Truthfully, he wasn't sure what to do now. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act, what he was supposed to think. He felt so lost within himself. So many memories swarming him. So many emotions overwhelming him, but he still felt empty. He felt as if he needed to wait, he had to wait for orders, for someone to tell him what to do, what to think, what to feel. He needed that force he had felt so much of, with the control that everyone else seemed to have on him, he couldn't control himself.

Dean just sat, still, blank stare in his eyes, watching the wall like he was waiting for it to perform a trick.

"You want me to help you upstairs?" John asked hesitantly, not sure exactly what Dean was thinking or needing.

"Okay." His response was as blank as his stare.

John helped him stand, keeping his arm around him and his other hand on his elbow he helped him out of the room and up the steps. He sat Dean on the couch. Concerned for his son's state of mind he looked to his friend for help, for reassurance.

"He'll be okay, just gotta give him a little time." Bobby said, placing his hand on John's shoulder.

"Hey, Dean, you want anything to eat or drink?" Bobby asked, moving his hand from John's shoulder to Dean's, pulling his attention from whatever he was lost in inside his mind.

He looked up at Bobby, confusion in his expression. "I… I don't know." He answered with a shrug and childlike demeanor.

"You wanna try something?" Bobby questioned, but Dean didn't seem to understand his question, or possibly what his answer should be.

He didn't have anyone telling him what to say. He didn't have anyone controlling his answers, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do, what he was supposed to say.

"How about some water?"

"Okay."

Bobby caught John's attention, nodding his head toward the kitchen. John stood and followed Bobby into the kitchen.

"Is he okay?" John was full of concern.

"He will be, it's just going to take him some time to process everything that's going on in his head. If he remembers what happened, like he says he does, then all the memories came flooding back at once, like it all just happened, again."

"Damn." John rubbed his hand down his exhausted face.

Bobby nodded. "Give him some time to process." He said as he grabbed the glass of ice water and headed back to Dean, John following behind.

"Here 'ya go." Bobby said, handing Dean the glass.

He reached and took it, not really sure what to do with the glass that now sat in his hand.

"You gonna drink that or just sit and stare at it?" Sam asked, his voice seeming to pop out of nowhere. No one had even noticed that he joined them in the room.

Dean looked up at Sam, confused, looking for answers, for reassurance, for answers.

"Drink. The. Water." Sam said, slowly, as if he was talking to someone who didn't understand English.

Dean started to drink the water. Too fast. Like it was going to be his only chance to get a drink.

"Woah, hold up there." John stopped him, pulling his hand and glass away from his mouth. "You're gonna make yourself sick if you drink so fast."

Dean's eyes widened with the sudden change of command. He turned into himself, like he had done something wrong. His hand started shaking and he quickly sat the glass down. His body tense, uncertain of anything at that moment.

"Okay, it's been a long day for all of us. Hell, it's been a long week, even longer last couple months, how about we all call it a night and get some sleep?" John suggested.

"Yes, sir." Dean's automatic response followed by instant action didn't go unnoticed by any of them.

"Dean, you okay, son?" John's question stopped Dean's motion immediately.

He turned and looked at his dad and shrugged.

"It's a simple question, yes or no?" John replied.

Dean scanned the faces in the room, none of them gave him a clue what his answer should be. Again, Dean shrugged, "I ggguess." He stuttered.

"You sure?"

Dean's eyes widened with another shrug of his shoulders. "I… I don't know what I'm supposed to answer, I'm sorry."

Dean seemed to shrink away with his answer, an automatic reaction to protect himself from the punishment, or pain that was coming. If his answer was wrong, it was sure to come. He knew his answer was wrong because he didn't answer yes or no like he was told.

John sighed and lowered his head.

"Come on, Sam, lets head to bed." Bobby said, walking toward Sam and placing his hand on his back to guide him out of the room without protest.

"Dean, come sit down." John requested, but to Dean it was a direct command.

He sat on the edge of the couch, beside his dad. His body was tense and his hands trembled as he held them tightly between his knees. His eyes darted around the room, trying to spot anything that could be used as a weapon against him. He needed to be prepared for what was about to come.

John sat for a moment watching Dean's reaction. "Dean." John's voice snapped Dean to instant attention. "You do know you're free to feel your own feelings, right?"

"Uh…" Dean wasn't sure how to respond.

"Look, I don't know what the hell happened while you were in that place, but I need you to know, no one is controlling you anymore, okay? I know it must have been hard to have a possession control you, and not even know it, but it's gone and you're free to be you again."

"Yes sir." Dean replied. Still waiting for the pain of punishment.

"Go to bed, hopefully tomorrow will be a little easier on you after a good night's sleep." John sighed.

"Uh, yes sir?" Dean was double confused now. He started to stand and paused, turning to his dad. "Um… do you want… do I need… is there anything else before I go?"

"Like what?"

Dean shrugged and dropped his head, his body trembling again, his heart racing as fast as his mind. "Any punishment?"

John was shocked at his son's response. "What? Why would you think that?"

"I… I don't know. I'm sorry."

Dean quickly replied, his words tumbling over each other and he hurried off the couch and up the steps. He didn't pause to even think about his actions. He needed to get away, that's all he could think at the moment. Something wasn't right. He wasn't sure what, but he knew it was something.

Was it him? It must be. He had said the wrong thing. He had done something wrong. He quickly slipped into his bed, burying himself with his covers.

His body trembles turned to shakes and his breathing was heavy and shattered with his body. His mind a never-ending whirl of thoughts that he couldn't get to stop. He didn't even know what the thoughts were, they were going too fast, too many.

"Hey Dean, you okay?" Sam's voice came from the darkness. He had been laying in his bed, watching his brother.

Dean's breathing calmed and his shakes turned back to trembles. He turned to look at Sam, uncovering his head but still staying under the safety of his blankets. Sam raised from a laying position to sitting on the edge of his bed. The dim light from the hallway and the moonlight that slipped around the edges of the window lighted the room just enough for them to be able to see each other.

"I… I… Sam, I don't know what I'm supposed to say."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know how I'm supposed to feel, or what I'm supposed to say or act or do."

"Uh… I mean… I guess you're supposed to feel and act and do whatever you're doing. I mean… there's not really a 'Dean manual' that tells you what to do in certain situations."

"What if I mess up?" Dean questioned with a voice of defeat, quieted by despair.

"What do you think you're going to mess up?"

Dean shrugged, John walked to their room, standing in the doorway. Sam looked up at his dad, desperate for help. Desperate for answers to give to Dean.

"I… I just don't want to be punished anymore." Dean admitted quietly as he sat up onto the edge of his bed.

John came into the room and sat on the bed beside Dean.

"Dean, no one is going to punish you anymore. It's over. You're safe now." Sam so desperately wanted Dean to believe him.

"Dean, why do you think that?" John asked.

Dean shrugged, his body tensing with the presence of his dad. "I… I…"

Dean couldn't seem to come up with an answer. That would mean getting his brain to work properly, and he couldn't, he couldn't seem to think.

"I deserve it." He finally answered.

"No, no you don't." John sighed. "Dean, what you deserve is a life of nothing but comfort and safety. You don't deserve punishment and pain."

Dean sheepishly moved his eyes to his dad, his head still lowered, head not moving. He only moved his eyes. His hands started folding into themselves and pressed against his body. He wanted so badly to fold into himself until he disappeared.

"You think you do?" John questioned.

"I…"

"Dean, stand down." John ordered, realizing his son needed direction and reassurance, but mostly the need to be told what he needed to do. "You have permission to talk freely."

John glanced at Sam, giving him a look that said to stay quiet, not to argue about him giving Dean orders.

Dean seemed to relax under the direct order, nodding his head sharply, he sat up a little straighter, unfolded himself. "I do." He answered clearly.

"Why?"

"I… I don't know."

It sounded more like a question than an answer, but it was one John was willing to take. He was sure there was a lot Dean didn't know, or didn't understand, at the moment.

"Don't know, or don't understand?"

"Don't understand."

"Try to explain to me the reasons why you think."

"Because I… I fuck everything up, because I can't follow direct orders clearly enough. Because, I fight too much, I can't seem to submit to them like I should, no matter how much I try. And, I really did try, I promise I did. But, I just couldn't. I couldn't stop fighting against their orders. I needed to be punished, still do. I'm supposed to know what is expected of me. I'm supposed to know what I'm supposed to do, how I'm supposed to act at any given moment. But, I don't. It keeps changing. Everything keeps changing and I don't know what's going on anymore. I don't know what I'm supposed to do, what's expected of me."

Dean's thoughts were everywhere. He had memories that flooded in, trying to mix with his emotions, and he couldn't seem to keep them separate. He couldn't seem to focus properly.

"And, you think that warrants punishment?" John questioned.

"Yes, sir."

"What punishment do you think you deserve?" God, John did not want to hear the answer, but knew it was necessary. He had to figure out exactly what was going through his son's head so that he could know how to help him.

Dean shrugged. "Whatever you want to give."

"Give me an example."

"I mean… they… uh… I…"

Dean tried so hard, he had to answer his dad, it was an order. There was no request in his head, only orders and submission.

"You can… uh… beat me… like… like they did."

Dean's head was screaming at him. He knew that wasn't the answer he was thinking of. He knew he deserved more than that. But, he didn't want more. But, he knew he deserved it. But, he didn't want it. But, his mind was screaming at him to say it. Just say it! Say what the hell you need!

"Rape me."

Dean spewed the words out of him mouth. He didn't want to say them, but he needed to shut his mind up. He needed to stop the screaming in his head.

"I deserve to be hurt. I deserve the punishment and treatment that I've gotten, and I need more of it."

Dean couldn't stop. His mind was screaming at him to just shut up, to stop talking. He was screaming at himself for giving an opening for pain that his body shuttered against. But, the words just came without thought. He was asked what he deserved. He was told to give examples of the punishment he needed. And, he needed to obey, or the punishment he felt he needed would only grow larger.

"I deserve to be torn apart, to be put through more pain than my body can handle."

His words drifted off into memories, mindless, emotionless.

"I deserve everything you get; every little pain is a reminder of how disobedient you are. Your ass is mine, literally, you'll do as you're told. You'll only speak when allowed and only be allowed to say exactly what you're supposed to. You think only what you're allowed to think. You feel only what we tell you to feel. You feel pain and nothing else."

John looked over at Sam. He had pushed himself away from them, his back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tight around his knees and chin resting on his knees. His tears glistened in the moonlight.

"Is that what they told you?"

"Yes, sir."

His arms were wrapped around themselves across his chest. His hands on the opposite upper arm, his fingers digging and scratching into his own skin, leaving reddened pathways were his fingers had been.

"And, who is 'they'?"

"The guys who chained me and beat me and drugged me." His nails dug deeper into his skin, leaving spots where the blood tried to drop from the new wounds.

"You remember being drugged?"

"Yes sir." His nails dug deep. He had stopped the scratching and just dug into his arms as deep as he could. He needed to feel the pain. He didn't understand it. He didn't know why, but that's what he needed at that moment.

"You remember everything that happened?"

"Yes sir."

John reached over and placed his hands on Dean's pulling them away from his wounded arms, pulling his nails from beneath his skin.

"You okay, Sam?" John turned his attention to his youngest son.

He just shrugged. "I guess."

John nodded, understanding what Sam meant. Changing his attention back and forth between his sons. "And that's okay, to not know what you're feeling." John gently sat Dean's hands in his lap and released his hold on them.

Both boys fell silent, their heads hung, eyes lowered.

"How about you boys get some sleep, we'll talk more in the morning. I think a good night's sleep will help everyone clear their heads a little."

They both laid down without saying another word. John did his fatherly duty and made sure they were both okay and feeling comfortable before telling them goodnight and leaving the room.

John barely made it to his room before he fell to his knees and the tears flowed hard and heavy. He folded his arms around his stomach and crumbled into himself onto the floor. He needed help. He needed to know the answers to give his son. And he didn't have any.


	39. Chapter 39

**CHAPTER 39**

The morning light shown through the window edges. The glow that hit Sam's face woke him with a vengeance. He looked beside him, across the room, and saw Dean still sleeping, in his bed, exactly where he belonged. For the first night in a week Dean was back where he belonged.

Sam stretched and groaned, last night had been tough. He didn't know how to take his big brother right now. He wasn't sure how to feel about the way Dean's mind seemed to be working, or not working. God, his heart ached with his brother's words still ringing in his ears.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed, watching Dean sleep restlessly. He needed to figure out how to help his brother. Dean had always been there for him, he had always known how to fix Sam. He always knew what he needed. Why couldn't Sam seem to know the same about Dean?

'Okay,' Sam sat and thought to himself, 'Dad says that Dean was abused, even as a child, by the people who took advantage of him. Sexual abuse, physical abuse, attempted rape, object rape, I guess that's a thing?' Sam wasn't sure about that one, but knew it had a place in the line of events.

'He's always been so active with the females. Maybe too active? Overcompensating? Perhaps. Proving something to himself? Perhaps. Then, there's always been the drinking. drowning out the emotions life brought. That's knowledge to everyone. He won't deny that fact. But, he would deny what emotions he's drowning out, for obvious reasons.'

Sam sighed as he rubbed his hand down his face. He pushed himself off the bed, gathering clean clothes for the day. He stopped to take another long look at Dean before he headed to the bathroom to shower and prepare himself to start the day.

'Dad had said something about him neglecting us, or Dean, possibly abusing him at some point? Being too tough, that's for sure. But, Dean never complained. He always took what was forced on him. Forced. So much has been forced on him. Did he think he deserved it? Like he does now? Was his tough training a form of punishment in his mind? Is that why he just accepted it the way he did?'

Sam let the shower water wash down his body, wash away the weary of the days before.

'There was the incident with him and me. He was beaten and raped. I know because I had to watch. Dean didn't seem to mind the beating. The rape bothered him after for sure, but during? I'm not so sure about that. He was more concerned about me than himself. The man asked for information and he refused to give it to him. Did Dean see the beating and rape as a form of deserved punishment?'

Sam finished his shower and dressed, stopping in front of the mirror to take a long look at himself.

'Then there was the most recent. According to what Dean said, he was told he deserved the punishment because he wasn't submissive. But, is that what he's always felt? Did they just reassure him his mindset was right? Or, at least make him think that? He asked Dad to punish him, he even told him he deserved to be raped again. Why? Was that what he's always felt or was that something new? Placed in his head by the bad people?'

Sam made his way from the bathroom back to their room. Dean was still sleeping. Sam made his bed and sat at the edge of his bed, thinking and watching Dean.

'Abuse. Sexual abuse. Physical abuse. All by the hands of so many people throughout his life. Neglect from his dad, after the death of his mom, which could also feel like a form of neglect. Forced to grow up, to be an adult, to take care of a baby. Abandonment.'

Sam sighed. There was so much. He needed a starting point. He stood and made his way downstairs. He had decided he was going to finish his thinking in front of his computer. He found a quiet corner to sit in the library and pulled out his laptop. Opening it, he started typing his thoughts into the search bar. He had decided if he didn't know the answers he needed in order to help Dean then he would search until he found them.

Dean was hurting, no doubt about that. He was lost in his own mind, he was hanging on so many lies and so much pain. Sam needed to get him back to a stable place. He needed to let him know he was okay, he was safe. But, just talking to hear himself give an answer wasn't going to do Dean any good. Sam needed to come up with actual facts. Facts about what Dean had admitted he'd gone through.

Dean said he needed someone to tell him what to feel, what to think. He didn't know. He needed to feel the control of someone else. The control he had never had in his own life. If Dean needed someone to tell him how he was supposed to act and what he was supposed to do, then Sam was going to look to the experts to give him the information he needed. He would find out what people in his brother's situation usually felt and did, or what was considered normal and not normal.

He needed the information for Dean and himself. In a way, Sam felt he needed to know the facts for himself too. He felt so lost, so confused about Dean's ramblings and confessions. Dean's thoughts didn't sit too well in Sam's chest. But, perhaps that was all normal? Perhaps Dean was already thinking and feeling exactly like he was supposed to? Maybe they just didn't know he was.

Sam needed to find out. He needed to help Dean the way he had helped him his entire life. Grabbing a pen and paper, Sam wrote notes about everything he found online. He wrote down the wisdom of the experts who had studied this type of thing.

John walked into the room, watched Sam sit quietly in the corner of the room, on the floor, with his laptop in his lap. He cleared his throat in an attempt not to startle him too much. Sam just glanced up then back at the opened computer screen. In front of him was a spread of papers that he had written on.

John approached Sam. "What'cha working on?"

"Research, Dean still asleep?"

"In the shower."

Sam nodded.

"We aren't even considering a hunt anytime soon, so what'cha researching?" John questioned as he picked up a couple of the papers off the floor.

Sam looked up at his dad nervously. He thought about stopping him, taking the papers from his hand. But, he figured he might as well allow his dad to read them. If they were going to help Dean then they all needed to be on the same page. Have the same understanding, rather they liked the truth or not.

"Death of a parent." "Stages of grief." "One parent home." "Growing up after losing a parent." "Effects of older sibling raising younger one." "Child neglect." "Alcoholic parent." "Missing stages of childhood."

Those were only the labels above the notes on the papers in his hands.

"Figured, we needed to help Dean, and to do that, we need to know what's normal behavior and what's not. So, I've been doing some research." Sam stated while staring at the computer screen, avoiding eye contact with his dad.

"Decided to go back to the beginning, huh?" John noted.

Sam just nodded.

"What you reading now?" John sat in the chair nearby, sitting the papers back on the floor where he had picked them up at.

"It's a story, well a biography type of story, about this guy who lost his mom at 5 years old, and his dad didn't want anything to do with him, so he had to grow up on the streets. He started prostituting himself at around 8 because he had grown past the cute stage where people gave him free food. Or, at least, that's what he said. Anyhow. He ended up going to school and becoming a therapist and helps kids who live on the streets. He talks about the effects it had on him. And, he talks about how the situation he was placed in wasn't his fault. That his decisions for what he did may have been, but it was a survival choice, not a sexual choice. Anyhow, he ends up helping all these kids get off the streets and helps them find homes or shelters and helps them understand their situations and helps them heal from it all."

Dean had made his way downstairs and to where his brother and dad sat. He leaned against the doorway, listening to the last part of Sam's description of what he was reading. Sam had glanced up when he heard him enter the doorway but chose to continue explaining the story to his dad. He figured there was no point in hiding his research from Dean either.

"I never said I didn't want anything to do with you boys." John stated in an attempt to defend himself. He heard Dean shift and looked up at him, just then noticing he was standing against the door frame. "And, I kept a roof over your heads. There may have been a few nights the impala was home, but I kept you off the streets. Or, at least, I thought I was. I tried to."

"Dad!" Sam snapped harsher than he meant to. "You asked what I was reading so I told you. This has nothing to do with you. This is this guy's personal story. You don't have to be so damn defensive! I'm only reading it to get an ideal of what he's…"

Sam pointed up at Dean. "Going through. And, what's normal behavior, what we all, including Dean, can expect as far as behavior and thoughts. So, I figured I'd see what this person has to say about it since he's been through somewhat the same crap. No one ever said you put us on the streets."

Sam shook his head in disbelief and sighed. He wasn't trying to point fingers or blame anyone for anything. He was only trying to help his brother. Why did John Winchester have to be so damn difficult all the time? He always seemed to be on the defense. It was like, no matter what they did, or didn't do, it was never good enough, they always screwed something up or did something wrong.

"Dad." Sam looked up at his dad who had buried his face in his hands. "Can I ask you something?"

John rubbed his hands down his face as he lifted his head to look at his youngest son. "Shoot."

"Did you ever notice any of the good Dean ever did? Or did you just notice the crap you didn't think was good enough?"

"Another thing you're researching? Look, I don't know what's gotten into your head, but your brother has been just fine until this recent crap, so you can stop trying to blame me for everything."

"Dad! I'm not trying to blame you for anything. I'm simply asking you a question. And, really? He's been fine up until now? Do you seriously believe yourself?"

"Right here." Dean said quietly.

"I mean," Sam continued. "he's been a fucking mess his whole life, and to be honest I can't exactly blame him. He sold himself to god knows who, just to take care of me, or did you forget about that already?"

"Again, I'm right here." Dean interrupted.

Sam ignored his brother. That seemed to be the theme of their lives. Sam and John would disagree and ignore any interjection from Dean until it started getting physical and Dean would have to step in between them, stopping the fighting.

"Does that really sound like someone who's okay? Does that sound normal to you? Because, it sure as hell doesn't to me!"

John sighed, he didn't want to fight. He was too worn down for this.

"Guys." Dean started to make his way into the room so he would be closer if he needed to step in the middle. "Please, don't do this. Just, stop fighting. I… I can't right now…" Dean's words trailed off as he leaned his back against the wall.

Sam and John both locked eyes with each other, a clear understanding in both of them that they needed to work together if they were going to help Dean.

John drew in a deep breath and released it harshly. "Looking back, I can say I probably didn't recognize the good he did like I should have. I guess, I just took things for granted. He was a good kid. Always did as he was told. Never questioned anything, never disobeyed. He could be responsible and dependable. He's always had a heart of gold, just like your mom. No matter what he was always there, always trying to comfort me and you. Always trying to make sure we were taken care of, that we were emotionally supported. I see that now. And, no, I didn't recognize it. I didn't tell him how proud I've always been of him."

John looked up at Dean with tear filled eyes. "I'm sorry." He said to Dean.

Dean just shrugged in response.

"I should have told you how I felt. I should have told you how incredibly proud I am of you. I always have been. I've depended on you, probably too much, but the thing is, you've always been there. You've been like a best friend to me, and I guess I just didn't take the time to make sure you had the same care that you gave to me."

Dean shrugged, glancing away in embarrassment. His eyes made their way to Sam, they were deep with uncertainty. There was a twinge of regret, and pain in them. It would have gone unnoticed by John, but not by Sam.

He filed it in his brain to discuss with him when they were alone. It was obviously not something Dean wanted brought up, that much was clear. The expression on his face begged Sam to save him from the current conversation.

Sam closed his laptop. "Anyhow, this is all just stuff I was working on while everyone else was asleep and the house was quiet. I'll go back to it later. What's for breakfast?" Sam stood from the floor, stretching.

"I think I hear Bobby, I'll go see if he's started anything, if not I'll get it going." John said, exiting from the room quickly.

"Need help with that?" Dean questioned, nodding toward the laptop and papers that sat on the floor.

"Yeah, okay. If you want."

Sam realized Dean may be seeking for the same answers he was. Or, maybe he just needed something to occupy his mind? Either way, even if he just wanted to sit and read the notes he had made, that was fine with Sam. He figured perhaps it would help Dean to know that the answers weren't just words that Sam was using to fill the air, it was research and knowledge from people who have both been in the same situations and who had spent their lives dedicated to helping others through it.

Sam sat back in the corner, the same place he just stood from. Dean sat near him, his back against the wall where he was able to see around the room.

Dean picked up the papers and started reading what Sam had wrote. Sam went back to finishing the book he was reading online, glancing up every few minutes to check on Dean.

He sighed when he didn't notice any reactions, or emotions, from Dean as he read the papers.

"What?" Dean asked when Sam sighed.

"Nothing."

"Well, obviously it's something."

"It's a lot of things, but nothing I can do anything about right now."

"What makes you say that?"

"Because I don't have the knowledge that I need. I don't know the answers you're looking for. Not yet anyhow."

"Yeah, I… uh… I don't know what I'm looking for right now."

"I know. And that's okay. I'm not really sure either. That's why I just kind of started at the beginning. I figure, at some point, something will start making sense and helping out, right?"

"Yeah I guess." Dean said with a shrug of a shoulder.

They sat silently for a few minutes. Dean appeared to be reading the paper in his hand, but he hadn't sat it down, even after he should have finished it, he still looked as if he was reading it. Sam realized, perhaps Dean had stopped being able to focus on the words, or maybe, something had caught his attention, sent him into a tailspin of memories in his head.

"Something on your mind?" Sam asked, closing the laptop that was in his lap.

Dean just shook his head and sat the paper back on the floor. He then stood and made his way out of the room and back upstairs.

Sam sighed and after giving Dean a minute's head start, he stood and followed him up the stairs. He found him exactly where he had expected. He was sitting in their room on the edge of his bed. His hands sat in his lap, twisting around each other. His head lowered with his eyes locked on his lap.

"Dean, you okay?" Sam asked, quietly making his way into the room, kneeling on the floor in front of Dean. He placed his hand gently under Dean's chin and lifted his head so he could look into his eyes. "Something you read?"

"I don't know." The words barely came out. They were forced around the lump of tears that had caught in his throat.

"Boys! Breakfast is ready!" John shouted from the top of the stairs.

"Come on." Sam replied taping Dean on the knee. "I'm sure you're starved."

Dean sucked in his bottom lip with his breath and bit down, just enough to feel the pain of his teeth but not enough to cause any real injury. He had to keep his hands from trembling. He wasn't sure why, but at that point he wanted to run and hide. Tie him back to the bed downstairs, he didn't care. At least he would be alone, not having to interact with anyone.

He followed Sam to the kitchen. Absentminded he sat in his seat and accepted the food that was given to him. He stared at nothingness in the center of the table. He didn't even really look at the food on his plate. He could judge by the feel under his fork what he was touching. He had looked at it when it was handed to him. There were some scrambled eggs, pancakes, and sausage.

It didn't matter to him what he ate, or how much of it. The thing is, he didn't know if he wanted to keep it down, or if he even could. There were voices around him. Some directed at him, he could tell, but he couldn't make them into words. He couldn't seem to focus on the sounds of the words that were being said.

He felt like he'd been here before, feeling this exact same way, but he couldn't remember when, or how. He wanted to look for an escape. Desperation started setting in. But, if he moved his eyes then they would know he was looking for a way out, an escape to his own insanity.

He also knew he wouldn't be permitted an escape. Maybe for a moment or two, long enough to shower and take care of personal needs. But, that would be it. That's all he would be allowed. They were keeping too close of an eye on him. Too much attention on his behavior. He had to keep things hidden better. He couldn't let them see what was inside.

He jumped when he felt a hand on his. It had startled him from his internal insanity. It held the fork from moving closer to his mouth. Why? Why would they stop him? He was doing what they told him, what they wanted. Perhaps he had taken too long, they only allowed a small window of time to eat what was given. But, it usually wasn't this good. And, it wasn't very often, so you accepted it no matter what it tasted like. You accepted or you died.

"Dean!" His dad's voice was sharp and deep. He had one hand on Dean's hand, keeping him from moving the fork full of food closer to his mouth, his other hand was on Dean's shoulder, giving him a hard shake.

Dean blinked his eyes rapidly, pulling himself back to the current situation around him. He turned and looked at this dad with wide eyes. His body stiffened against John's force. His eyes started darting around the room, looking for places to escape, to use for safety against whatever was coming.

"Dean, son. You need to look at me." John ordered.

Instantly Dean's eyes met his dad's.

"You with me now?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. If you keep eating that way you're going to make yourself sick. You need to slow down, take your time boy, the food isn't going anywhere."

Dean gaped his mouth opened but couldn't seem to figure out the words that needed to come out. "I'm sorry." Was the only thing he could think of to say.

"Hey, it's okay. You don't have anything to be sorry for. I just don't want to see you make yourself sick."

"Yes sir." Again, was Dean's only response.

He looked around the room, confused. He met Bobby's gaze. "Do I finish?" Dean asked him, unsure of what he was supposed to do. He was trying to do as he was told but then he was stopped. But then he was told to slow down. Did that mean for him to continue?

"Are you still hungry?" Bobby asked.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't sure if he was even hungry to begin with, but he was doing as he was told.

"If you don't want anymore than you don't have to eat it. Ain't gonna hurt my feelings any."

Dean still didn't get the answer he was searching for. He looked to Sam who seemed to be more interested in watching his behavior than giving him an answer. He then looked at his dad. He was the one who had stopped him. Maybe he could tell him what to do.

"Dean. I'm sorry that I stopped you from eating, but you need to slow down or you'll just end up making yourself sick and won't be doing yourself any favors. It's up to you if you want to finish or not. I wasn't stopping you, I was only asking you to slow down."

Dean looked down at his almost empty plate, then at the other's plates that were at least still half full.

"I… I uh… I'm done." Dean said as he stood.

"Okay." John replied casually.

Dean made his way out of the room and back to the safety of the top floor of the home.


	40. Chapter 40

**CHAPTER 40**

Secretly, Dean wished Sam would have came with him. In a way, he was almost afraid to be alone. He knew it wasn't a good idea, that he needed to stay around someone, but he couldn't help himself.

He made his way to the bathroom first. He shoved his hand in his mouth and his fingers down his throat, making himself vomit some of the food back up. He was scared they would hear him so he only vomited about half of the food he had eaten.

He couldn't tell them. How could he? How could he even begin to describe the insanity that was running through his head. How to explain his need for something that was so crazy, so inhumane, that they would lock him in a nut house. That he was certain of.

When did he make it to his room? He couldn't remember moving his feet, telling them to walk. It felt like he was just transported in space. He hadn't even made it to his bed. He collapsed on the floor between the two beds. Fell to his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach, his chest against his legs, his head on the floor.

He was shaking. Why the hell was he always shaking so much? The need, the desire rising heavy in his chest, but he couldn't seem to move. He couldn't fulfill his sanity. He couldn't move to bring it back to him.

There was a hand, a touch, on his back. Oh god! No, not this. Not this again. He couldn't. He can't. What position did they want him in this time? The hand was rubbing across his back, the touch leaving chills in its path. Seemed to be trying to calm him. He must be in the position they wanted. Maybe that's why he was in the position to start with? To satisfy the touch. Dean needed it. He needed it as badly, or more, than the person touching him.

He tried to lift his hips, to pull himself to his knees, to give him the access he needed. The access to cause pain, to cause hatred and discomfort. All the things Dean needed. All the things he deserved. Maybe he wouldn't need to do it to himself. He needed it.

The touch was pushing him back to the position he was originally in. That didn't make sense. How could he have the access he needed if he wasn't in the air? Why? This was like torture in his own head. He needed this but they weren't fulfilling his needs. He was a pathetic piece of shit. That's what he was. They must know that, must see it in him. He's no longer worthy of the pain they were going to fill him with.

His body shook harder. He was sure a few whimpers escaped his lips. He wasn't sure but he thinks he feels tears on his cheeks. He was so weak. He was so pathetic. He deserved everything, anything, they would give him. Why weren't they? Why did they just keep rubbing his back, calming him. Or, trying to calm him. He wasn't sure there was any way to calm the wildness inside of him.

He realized his breaths were shivering with his body. When had he fallen to his side? He was shaking so hard. His breaths were shaking. His body shaking. His mind shaking. Shaking. Aching. He needed to fulfill this need. He had to, he didn't have a choice.

Dean tried to scramble to his feet, he tried to pull away from the touch.

"Shhhh shhhh." Dean heard as the pressure on his back increased. "Dean, calm down, it's okay."

He had heard talking, but that was the first time he was able to pull the sounds into words. "Ssssssaaaammmmyyyyy?" He stuttered out, recognizing the voice.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, it's okay. I'm right here. It's okay. Calm down." Sam soothed him, continuing the constant touch against his back.

Dean shuttered. "Sssssammmmmyyyyyyyyy." He drew out his brother's name in desperation. Desperation to escape whatever was running through his head.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm right here. You're safe now. We're at Uncle Bobby's, remember? It's okay." Sam rubbed Dean's back, trying his hardest to keep his voice calm and even. But, inside he was a jumbled mess of fear and heartache.

"Dean, I need you to open your eyes, okay? I need you to see where you're at." Sam pleaded. It was something he had learned from his research. He knew Dean already knew this trick. He had used it on Sam many times, especially after a nightmare.

It was a way of bringing someone back to the present, pull them from their memories. It was a way of grounding them. Making them aware of where they were. They weren't lost in where ever they were in their heads.

"Dean." Sam still fighting to keep his tone under control. "I need you to notice the floor you're laying on. It's Uncle Bobby's floor, not a mattress like you were on before, do you feel that?"

"mmhhmm."

"Okay, good. Feel the hard wood beneath you? The silence that is so common up here. The safety this room has always brought. You feel that? You hear it? The ticking of that damn clock that we've spent so many years listening to and complaining about."

"Yeah." Dean replied more clearly, but still hadn't opened his eyes.

"Hear the sound of my voice?" Sam questioned. "I'm right here with you. You're okay. If you open your eyes for me, you'll see that you're in our room at Bobby's."

Dean fluttered his tear-filled eyes opened and brought in the sight of the room that held so much of his life within the walls.

Sam looked to notice where Dean's eyes were looking then continued trying to bring him back down from where ever he was. "That's my bed. You see it?"

Dean nodded his head.

"And the dresser where we're supposed to keep clothes. But you know, being Winchesters and all, we just live out of our bags." Sam chuckled slightly. "And the window. The little sunlight that's coming in around it?"

"I… I put that over the window. When we were younger." Dean started reminiscing.

"Yeah, yeah you did."

"We had a long, hard hunt. We came here for safety. To heal. We were all three so tired and beaten to hell. You couldn't settle down because it was a full moon and so bright outside. So… so I got a black blanket and folded it and nailed it around the window, to keep out the light. Because you were scared the monster would break through if it was opened." Dean started to move himself but stopped when a sharp pain hit. He sucked in a sudden breath of air in protest to the pain.

"You still slept in my bed with me that night. I even offered to change beds with you, but you told me no and slept between me and the wall. You shook in fear half the night and I just kept my arms around you and made sure you knew you were safe."

"Yeah, you did. I remember that." Sam said, rubbing his hand in circles on Dean's back. "You know how that made you feel? How much you needed to take care of me, make sure I knew I was safe, no matter what?"

"Yeah."

"That's how I feel right now. I need to make sure you know you're safe. I need to make sure you're okay, and Dean, right now, you're not. So, you gotta let me help you. Okay?"

Dean closed his eyes to push back the flooding tears and nodded his head.

"Open your eyes for me." Sam requested and Dean did as he was told. "We gotta take care of some things right now, to make sure you'll be okay. Is that okay?"

Dean nodded.

"Is it okay if Uncle Bobby and Dad help? I really need them to help us take care of this."

Again, Dean nodded.

Sam sighed with a deep breath. He pulled Dean to a seated position, his back against the edge of his bed. "Okay, thank you." Sam said with relief that he didn't have to do this alone. "Dean, I need you to look down, I need you to see what I'm talking about. What we need to take care of."

Dean's eyes were locked on Sam's. He sat against his bed with his arms wrapped tightly around his stomach and his knees pulled toward his chest.

"Dean I need you to look, you gotta see."

Dean lowered his head and unwrapped his arms that were covered in blood. He was slightly shocked at the sight. He couldn't remember what had happened, but it wasn't a surprise that he was injured. He started feeling the pain once he saw the blood.

He looked at Sam, confused.

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Don't know. I came up here after I finished my breakfast, found you on the bathroom floor. Had to pry the knife from your hands. You did a number on yourself and we gotta get this taken care of. Get you patched up."

"Ddddon't tell Dad, please." Dean was confused but sounded desperate not to let anyone else know, especially his dad, about what he had done.

Sam looked up as John knelt on the floor beside Dean. "I'm already here, Champ. I already know. So is Bobby." John placed a hand on Dean's shoulder. "It's okay. We're going to take care of this. It'll be okay."

Dean dropped his head. "I'm sorry."

"No, Dean. You don't have anything to be sorry for. It's okay, we'll get through this together. Okay?"

Dean nodded.

Bobby had made his way to Dean's other side. "We gotta get you cleaned up and then stitched. Okay?"

Dean raised his head and brought his eyes to Bobby's soft, sympathetic face. "Yes sir." He replied.

They cut away his t-shirt. It would be easier than trying to raise it off his head. He sucked in deep air with the sting of them cleaning him. He may have even released a few hisses of pain while they stitched him. But, he really didn't mind the pain. Especially if he had done this himself, he deserved it more than anything.

"You okay?" John asked.

Dean had sat still, his eyes locked on his little brother. He startled at the sound of his dad's voice. He looked at his dad, his eyes were so lost. He wasn't sure what had happened or what was going on.

"Dad?" Dean sounded so desperate for any answer.

"It's okay, Dean. I don't know what to tell you. I don't understand this any more than you do. But, I know it's all going to be okay. We'll figure this out. We'll get through this together. You got that? You just gotta keep hanging on and we'll get through this." He embraced his oldest son in his arms. Holding on tightly to the one thing he wouldn't be able to handle ever losing.

Bobby had finished the stitches. He would have preferred to cover it with bandages before John pulled him into his embrace. But, he also knew they needed that bond, that closeness, that reassurance.

"I'm so confused." Dean cried into his dad's chest.

"About what?" John questioned.

"I don't know what's going on. I don't know why I feel the way I do. I… I… I… I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay, how about you take a nap, sleep might help."

Dean nodded as John helped him stand and sit on his bed. Like a robot Dean moved under the safety of his covers. Bobby placed the bandages over the fresh stitches and they all three left the room as Dean's eyes drifted closed. They turned out the light and pulled the door half closed.

Sam settled into this corner in the library with his stacks of papers and laptop. Bobby went about doing normal household stuff. Well, normal for Bobby that is. He made some phone calls. Returned calls he had missed. Helped some hunters with information they needed. He busied himself, keeping his mind from thinking about the pain Dean was in.

John had settled on the couch, Sam's papers in front of him, he read through the research Sam had completed. His chest tightened with the words he read. His heart ached with the effects that their life had on Dean. The effects John knew nothing about at the time. Things he could have never imagined.

Dean's lifelong behaviors started making sense. His actions and obedience all fell into place. Sam was right when he had asked him about noticing the good in Dean. So many times, he had ridden Dean too hard. He had punished him and disciplined him for all the things he saw wrong, all the things Dean didn't do perfect enough. He never once gave him the attention he needed, the acknowledgement of the good.

John needed his Mary so much. He had screwed up and wasn't sure how to fix it. He had ruined his son and was afraid he was beyond repair. He had passed the line of no return. John's eyes dwelled up with tears, his chest tight with the ache of the new knowledge.

His attention shifted to the noises coming from behind him. Dean had walked into the room. A clean pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. His hand rested on his stomach, protecting the new injuries that burned. John watched Dean make his way, slowly, across the room. He cringed in pain as he shifted his body to sit on the couch.

"How you feeling?" John questioned.

"Burns like a son of a bitch."

John gave a quick chuckle. "Bet it does."

Dean gave his dad a half-sided grin. He nodded his head toward the stack of papers that sat in front of his dad. "Those Sam's?"

"Yeah." John replied, picking up the stack he had already read, offering them to Dean.

Dean hissed with pain as he reached to take the papers from his dad. One hand gripped the papers, the other wrapped around his stomach.

"The stitches still holding?" John questioned. He was concerned about the depth of the slices on his stomach.

"Yeah, they're fine." Dean responded, his attention drawing away from his dad and to the papers in his hands. "Dad." Dean gave John another moment of attention. "I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

"It's okay, son. We'll figure it all out."

Dean nodded and drew his attention back to the words on the papers in his hands. He read notes that Sam had jotted down. He read advice from the experts. The words shifted through his head, finding spots to fit within his memories. He read about himself. His life was on the papers in his hands. His emotions were there in bold letters. In black and white. He was holding his own life in his hands. He wasn't sure if Sam or Dad realized it. He was sure they didn't.

He was sure if they realized the words fit him perfectly then they wouldn't want to be around him. He was sure they would leave, send him away, consider him crazy. Something, anything to get him away from them.

But, then again, as Dean sat and read, and thought, he realized, his life was there in his hands. His feelings, his actions, his thoughts, they were there. Other's personal experiences, the expert's advice and knowledge. They all fit Dean. If… if he was crazy… then maybe… maybe he wasn't crazy. If he was crazy it would mean all these other people were crazy too. It would mean the experts were crazy. It would mean the other people who had gone through things the same as Dean were crazy.

Others. That word hit him like a ton of bricks. It sent his head spinning. Others. Others. Others. There are others. There are others? Other boys who had to sell themselves to survive. Other little kids who had lost their parents to death. Others who had to step up and raise their younger brothers and sisters. There were others who felt his heartache. Others who felt the pain. Others who…

He picked up a new paper. In bold letters on the top were the words "self-harm". His mind swirled, his hands started shaking. The need for pain. The need for punishment. Even if caused by their own hands. It was a need, something that couldn't unconsciously be controlled.

Sexual abuse, physical abuse, self-harm, neglect, cutting… cutting… cutting… self-harm… cutting… needs… addictions… pain addiction… caused by your own hands… his own hands… the knife…

Dean's mind flashed to the bathroom. It was like he was standing over his body, watching himself. He pushed himself away from the toilet where he just forced to throw up the food he had eaten. His knife was subconsciously placed in the back of his waistband. He reached for it without thought. He held it tightly in his hands as he pressed the tip into his stomach. He pressed harder and harder until the sharpness of the pain stopped his hands.

He sliced the knife across his stomach, leaving a large gash in its path. Again, he pulled the knife out and pressed it into his stomach, leaving the same path of sharp pain. Again, and again, he then collapsed onto the floor.

Curled in a fetal position on his side. He held the knife tightly in his grip. He wanted to cut out any part of him that had feeling. He wanted to rid his body of the need for the punishment. The need that he had labeled crazy. The need, that if no one else would fulfill, he would do it himself.

But, now he read on the papers that were in his hands, the research his little brother had completed, it says that's normal? How the hell is that behavior normal? How the hell could anyone have such a strong need to have pain inflicted upon them?

Sure, when he was younger he would do things, purposely, to warrant punishment from his dad. He would do things that, in his dad's eyes, warranted a strict training forced upon him. He would purposely do things… he would… cause punishment, cause tough training, on purpose, for the desire to be filled, for the pain. He would act out irresponsibly on hunts, causing himself injuries that he should have been able to protect himself from.

On purpose. Why had he never noticed that before? How could he have lived a life of such self-destruction and not even notice? How had he not realized his need for such pain and discomfort?

Dean jumped, leaping his body off the couch and slamming it back down. He hissed out in a groan of pain as he tightly wrapped his arms around his stomach and bent his body forward in an attempt to stop the sudden stab of pain.

"Woah, easy there, champ." John calmed him. His touch had startled Dean out of deep thoughts.

Dean's heartrate and breaths matched in speed. His body trembled under the startle of pain. He leaned his head against the back of the couch, closed his eyes, and drew in a deep ragged breath. It was pain that was both welcomed and hated.

"You okay there?" John questioned, pulling Dean's attention back to him.

"Uh, yeah, sorry." Dean stuttered, tightening his arm around his stomach.

"You hurting?" John nodded his head toward his son's stomach.

"Yeah, burns like a bitch."

"Want something to make it stop?"

"I… uh…"

"It's okay if you don't, that's completely up to you."

"I think I'm okay."

"Okay." John patted Dean's shoulder. He pointed at the papers. "A little overwhelming?"

"Yeah." Dean's voice was lowered to an almost inaudible level.

"Does any of it make sense?" Sam asked, he had come into the room with the commotion from Dean being startled by his dad's touch.

Dean adjusted his body to a less painful position and wiped his hand down his face, wiping away any stray tears. "Yeah, it does." Dean had to force the words out. He had to make his voice work.

Sam sat beside Dean. "Does it help?"

"I… I guess." He answered, still unable to get his voice to a normal level. "I mean… it's kind of like… uh… me on paper." Dean shrugged, not sure how to explain the way it felt, the way he felt, the things those words sent spinning inside of his head.

But, it was going to be okay. He could do this. That's what he had been told over and over for so long. That's what he had to hold on to, rather he believed it or not, he had to hold on to that hope.


	41. Chapter 41

**CHAPTER 41**

"Is that all true?" Dean asked Sam, pointing at the piles of papers he had scribbled all his notes and research on.

"Yeah. I mean, I've never been in the same situations, thanks to you. But, I mean it seems that everything I read, everything each different person has to say about the topics they all match up and agree with each other, so unless all those people are all wrong, then yeah, it's all true."

"It…" Dean looked over at his dad, then back at Sam. "It's like, you wrote my life down on paper."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I mean, those things, they all make perfect sense. But, I've never realized it before. I guess I've just accepted whatever life gave me and didn't question it. You know. I mean, even Dad. I didn't realize that some of the things I did, or didn't do, I expected the punishment I would get, and when I think about it, I realize I did a lot that would make him give me harsher training."

Dean paused and looked at his dad again. "It's not his fault." Dean was still talking to Sam but looking at John. "I mean, I did it to myself. I get that now." He turned back to Sam. "Actually, I've never blamed him for anything, but I know he's blamed himself. Especially lately. But it's… I mean… if anyone is to blame I guess we're equally to blame."

He looked at his dad again, apology filling his expression.

"Dean, I think, in life, we all have our faults. There's things everyone does that they don't realize and things that have consequences that you may not know about until later. It seems we're both guilty of that. In fact, all four of us are, the same as everyone else in this world."

John was hoping what he was saying was making sense. "I think, if you're looking for normal, if you're needing to know how you're supposed to act and think and feel and… well all that jazz. I think you're doing exactly what you're supposed to be doing. I think, as strange as this may sound, you, Dean Winchester, are normal."

Dean seemed confused but was willing to hear his dad out. "Okay, let's just say you're right." Dean needed someone to be right because he never was, or at least that's what he felt. "Then, what do I do now? How do I stop these feelings? If they are normal, are they just going to always be there? Because, I can't keep doing this. I can't keep feeling this way. I can't keep…"

He stopped, what he couldn't do was continue pouring his heart out without anything to hold him down.

John looked at Sam and only got a shoulder shrug as a response. Dean was desperately looking to his dad for answers he didn't have.

"Well, for starters, we let your Brainiac brother keep doing his research." John wanted so badly to have the answers his son wanted, but he didn't. In fact, Sam was the one who had come up with everything so far.

"And, we figure it out, together. But, most importantly, you keep fighting. No matter what, you don't ever give up. I don't care how many stitches we have to put in you, or how many tears need drying, or how many nightmares need to be calmed. You just remember, no matter what, you don't give up. We'll figure this out."

Dean drew his lips between his teeth and bit down, the internal pain was evident on his face. He wiped the stray tears from his eyes.

"And…" John continued. "WE realize, this isn't a YOU problem. This is not a Dean issue. This is a Winchester issue. This is a Singer issue." John pointed at Bobby who had stood against the wall in the room, silently listening and watching. "This is a family issue, it's not just a Dean thing."

Dean looked up at Bobby. His eyes desperately searching for something to stop his mind at that moment. Bobby had always been like a father to him. He was someone Dean had always looked up to.

"Your dad's right." Bobby spoke, seeing the desperation in Dean's eyes. "This is a family issue, it's going to take everyone to fix this. And, I think everyone has a little bit of healing to do, not just you."

"Even you?" Dean asked Bobby.

Bobby made his way across the room and sat on the coffee table that was in front of the couch. He was directly across from Dean, close enough their knees touched.

"Boy, I've got a lot of life that I've just shoved away, a lot like you. It's honestly too late for me to deal with everything, but I've come to accept that. But, as far as this family goes, I think I have a lot of forgiving and fixing to do with your dad. We haven't always seen eye to eye when it came to you boys and that's always caused a problem between us. Honestly this is the first time I've ever seen your dad be a dad."

Dean nodded. "Yeah, me too." He whispered barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

"You gonna be okay, kid?"

"Yeah, I think so, maybe… I don't know…" Dean paused to collect his thoughts. "Right now, yeah."

"That's all we can ask for." Bobby said with a pat to Dean's knee. "How about some lunch? I'm sure everyone is starving by now."

"Lunch?" Sam questioned. "Isn't it closer to dinner time?"

"Okay smartass, keep it up and you'll just go hungry." Bobby replied sarcastically.

Dean allowed a quick grin to build on his face then disappear. He even let out a puff of air that was a silent chuckle. He wanted so badly to go back to the normal he had known all his life, back to the person he was before all of this crap was thrown on him. He needed that more than anything.

Just for a moment, he wanted all of this to disappear. He wanted the old him, the one who didn't give a shit about anything. The one who would laugh in the face of life.

"Let's eat." John said with a slap to Dean's shoulder, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Dean looked up, surprised, he hadn't realized he had gotten lost in his thoughts again. He stood and followed his dad to the kitchen. Before eating, he hesitated. He didn't want a repeat of his last meal. He picked up the cheeseburger that sat in front of him, and just stared at it.

"Slow down." "You have one minute, you better eat up!" "Your food's not going anywhere." "That's it, you're done. You may or may not get more anytime soon. Depends on how well you behave."

"Dean?" John had been calling his name with no response. He had raised his voice, pulling Dean's attention back to him.

He looked wide eyed at his dad, the muscles in his neck and face were so tight they were shaking. The hands that held the cheeseburger were also shaking. He quickly dropped the food back onto the plate, like it had just burned him.

"Time's up?" Dean questioned before he realized what he had said.

His eyes wildly danced around the room. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, perhaps he was trying to figure out if this was real, if he was at Bobby's with his family, or if there was something to give him a sign he was hallucinating.

"What's that mean?" John asked in reply to Dean's words.

"sss… sorry." Dean stuttered.

"Stop apologizing for things you don't need to apologize for, now what did you mean by that?"

"I… I guess I just… you know… thought I was somewhere else… for a moment." Dean shrugged, like that was explanation enough.

He wasn't sure if he was allowed to eat. He had been stopped last time, and this time he wasted precious time getting lost in his head.

"Dean. What did you mean when you asked if time was up?" John's irritation in his son's vague answers was showing more than he wanted it to. It had been another long day and he didn't mean for his irritation to come out in his tone, but even Sam flinched at it.

"They… uh…" Dean knew his dad's voice demanded an answer. A real answer, the truth. "The time, or actually two times, that they gave me anything to eat… while… there… it was only if I… behaved… well enough to earn it. And, it was… like… I don't know… it looked and tasted like… pig slop."

Dean raised his eyebrows with uncertainty and gave a shoulder shrug, he wasn't really sure how to describe it, but that seemed pretty accurate to him.

"They only gave you a minute to eat it. If you didn't finish it, then they would take it away, and you'd be punished for not finishing, plus no matter how… uh… well you behaved… you didn't even have the option for the next two meal times."

"Is that why you ate breakfast so fast?"

"I… I don't know… I guess so?"

John nodded, beginning to understand. "When I stopped you, did you think time was up then too?"

"I'm not sure what I was thinking. I guess I… maybe… yeah?"

"You guess maybe you what?"

"I… I think… I thought… I had done something wrong, and I was being punished for it… that's why I was stopped. Maybe because time was up? Maybe because I wasn't eating it properly? I don't know. I just remember feeling really confused and not sure what I was supposed to do."

"Is that what happened when you left the table? Did you punish yourself because you thought you did something to deserve it?"

"I… think… so." Dean said the words slow with pauses between them. He was pretty sure that was what happened, he just wasn't completely sure why.

"Dean, look son, you don't have to worry about that anymore. Your food won't be taken. You eat at your own pace. There's no time limit. And, if you don't want to eat something, then you don't have to, there's always other options and that doesn't mean you have to skip any meals. Hell, if you get hungry between meals, eat."

Dean rubbed his hand across his face. This was all simple logic, things he should know, yet it seemed so hard for his mind to grab a hold of.

"I may stop you." John continued. "From time to time. But, if I do, it's not because you've done anything wrong, and you don't have to stop eating your meal. I, or any of us, may just need to remind you to slow down, or point it out if you don't notice. But, only to help you, not to hurt you or punish you for anything, okay?"

"Yes sir."

"I mean it, Dean. You're the strongest person I know. You deserve so much more than life has given you. But, you've pushed through all the obstacles life has put in your path. And, this is no different. This is just something you gotta keep pushing through. You're not doing anything wrong, I promise. Okay?"

"Yeah." Dean's voice was low and his head was hung even lower.

"Go ahead, eat, I'm sure you're starving."

Dean nodded, he was feeling hungry. He lifted the burger to his mouth, stopping himself from taking a huge bite, he took a small bite, smaller than he normally would, but he was careful to make sure he didn't over do it, didn't force himself too much.

Sam paced himself with Dean, if he ate too fast he didn't want him leaving the table alone, he couldn't handle a repeat of earlier. But, if he ate too slow, he didn't want him to sit at the table alone. He wanted to help his brother feel as comfortable as he could. As normal as he could.

Dean ended up only eating about half of his food. "I… I think I'm done, I'm starting to feel sick and I don't wanna make myself throw it up like last time."

"Sounds good." John replied.

Dean was getting ready to stand and leave the table when he caught his brother's eye. There was a look of fear in them. A deep sadness, desperation. Dean relaxed his body and remained seated. He noticed it for what it was. Sam was scared for Dean to leave the table. He was afraid of having a repeat of the last meal he ate.

Sam didn't want to go upstairs and find his brother in a bloody pile on the floor. Not again.

"I'm okay, Sammy." Dean said quietly as he pressed his hand against his stomach and stood. "I gotta lay down, my stomach is burning like a bitch and I don't think I can handle it much longer." He added, placing his hand on Sam's shoulder, partly for balance and partly as a reassurance to his little brother. "I'm okay." He repeated as he tightened his grip before removing his hand and wrapping his arm around his stomach.

"Hey, Dean." Bobby stopped him.

He turned. "Yeah?"

"If you don't mind, in a little while, before I head to bed, I'll be in there to check on those stitches, make sure everything still looks good."

"Yeah, okay, that's fine." Dean replied as he turned back around and headed upstairs.

He was slow trying to get undressed and into bed. He was thankful Sam wasn't in there to witness his weakness. Weakness that was forced on him by his own hands. He hissed in pain as he stretched his body out in bed. He groaned as he turned to his side and curled his body into a fetal position.

He closed his eyes and released moans of pain from deep inside as Sam made his way into the room.

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

Sam made his way to his bed, undressing and making his way under the covers.

It only took a few minutes for Bobby to make his way into the boys' room. He turned on the small light beside Dean's bed before sitting on the edge.

"Mind if I take a look at those?"

"Sure." Dean sucked in air as he turned onto his back, trying not to let the groans of pain out into the air.

Bobby pressed against the wounds, causing Dean to protest against the pain. He was unable to keep the cries of pain held back as Bobby pressed and poked.

"You sure as hell did a number on yourself." Bobby noted.

"Yeah, so I've noticed." Dean replied.

"Hurting that bad, huh?"

"Yeah."

"Been hurting that bad all day?"

"Pretty much."

"Need something for the pain?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"It'll help you sleep better."

"I'm okay, Bobby."

"Think you deserve it?"

"I don't know. Maybe. I mean, I did do this to myself."

"Doesn't mean you deserve to be in pain."

"Doesn't mean I don't."

"Okay, you gonna be stubborn, I'll just get you something to help with that pain. I ain't gonna be up in the middle of the night cause you're hurtin' too bad." Bobby walked out of the room to retrieve a pain pill and some water.

"Dean, don't be so damn hard headed." Sam replied once Bobby was out of the room.

"What?" Dean sounded shocked at his brother's response.

"Bobby is trying to take care of you, so let him. If it hurts, then do something about it. You know, it's okay if you don't wanna give a shit about yourself, but some of us do care about you and just want to see you healthy and happy again."

"Yeah whatever. You know, you can be a real jerk sometimes."

"Yeah, well, so can you."

"Boys!" Bobby had stepped back into the room to hear their disagreement. "Seriously? You think now's the time to be arguing about petty shit?"

"He started it." Dean pouted.

"Oh, real mature, Dean." Sam replied back.

"That's enough between the two of you!" John had heard the commotion and joined them in the room.

"Take this." Bobby ordered, handing Dean the glass of water and pill.

He turned up his nose at the pill but didn't argue, he took it as he was ordered.

"Damn, Dean, can't even be thankful to someone for giving a shit." Sam huffed out, not missing his brother's upturn of his nose when given the medication that would help him.

"Shut up, bitch!" Dean shouted at Sam.

"Look, I have every right to speak my mind too!" Sam shouted back as he shot into a seated position on his bed.

"No one ever said you didn't." Dean replied back, pushing himself onto his elbows and making his way against the wall. "What the hell crawled up your ass?"

"Wow, you're the one to ask about that aren't you? Nothing's been up my ass, what's been up yours?"

The room fell silent. Sam didn't realize what he had said until it was already out there. Once it was out there, there was no taking it back, no apology would make it better.

Dean's mouth clamped shut. His lips pursed tight. His head dropped, his body paused in motion. His mind went blank. His emotions went blank. His heart went blank.

"Samuel Winchester!" John scolded his youngest son.

"What!" he was on the defense and pouted like a child, his arms crossed across his chest.

Dean closed his eyes. All he wanted was to escape this emptiness that just filled him. "What or Who? Because I'm pretty sure you know the answer to both of those." Dean sighed in defeat.

"Dean, I didn't mean."

"Yeah you did."

"No, I didn't. I'm sorry."

"Whatever, Sam. Just go to sleep, okay?" Dean could feel his insides trembling, he fought hard to keep it inside.

What the hell was wrong with him? All he wanted was to tear the stitches out of his stomach, to let himself bleed and feel the pain he was sure he deserved.

He tried to rush out of his bed. The nausea rising inside him. He fumbled, getting caught up in the blankets and stumbling over the bodies that surrounded him. Somehow, he ended up on the floor, on his knees, vomit under him as he heaved and panted for breaths that wouldn't come.

His body shook and his head spun. Nausea built in him again, this time he couldn't react as his stomach started to finish emptying itself. He still couldn't breathe. He tried but he couldn't. He tried but sucked the vomit into his lungs instead of air.

He started coughing and then choking. The panic was rising, it was already there, now, it had boiled over, becoming unbearable. The lack of oxygen made his body tense. He needed to breathe. He needed air. He tore at his bandages and stitches, trying to tear his body open so it could suck in the much-needed oxygen.

Hands, grabbing his, forcing him to stop movement, forcing him to remain breathless. This couldn't be happening again. It couldn't. What. Who. Inside. What. Who. Inside. What, who, inside. What, who, inside. Whatwhoinside. Whatwhoinside. His mind spun with those three words, each time they passed the speed seemed to increase until they were blended together into one word.

Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. Stop. He was breathing again. But they were coming in short pants. Each breath brought the word "stop" with it, filling his head with screams and cries and he just wanted everything to stop, but it wouldn't. And, then there were those three words again. What, who, inside.

And, he just wanted it out. He wanted everything inside of him out. But, he didn't have control of his hands anymore. He didn't have control of anything. His body shook, his breathing was fast and shallow, his mind spun.

Blankness. Then, there was blankness. Everything stopped. His movements, his fighting, his thoughts, his fast, shallow breaths. Everything stopped and seemed to smooth out. Darkness. It was all replaced with a blank darkness.


	42. Chapter 42

**CHAPTER 42**

Sam didn't mean to say what he did. But, it was out there, so he wasn't going to take it back. He wasn't sure why, but anger had risen inside of him. Not necessarily anger at Dean, but he just happened to be the one he lashed out at. Like always, it was always Dean who took the brunt of everyone's anger.

Dean stilled, his body stopped in an eerie, unhuman way. He then without warning tried to rush out of his bed. His legs getting caught in the blankets. His body stumbling over Bobby's and his dad's as he tried to catch him. He landed hard on his knees on the floor.

The force of the fall forced the bile that was rising in him to exit. It came without warning. It was like a flood that exited his body. Then, he seemed to regain himself for only a moment before he struggled to breathe. Throwing up again, he choked and coughed and fought against himself, against his body's need for oxygen. Panic rose and kept rising with each passing moment.

Bobby and John tried to calm him, they tried to give him comfort. They knew if he would only calm down then he would be able to breathe without issue, but he only fought harder. They grabbed his hands when he had started clawing at the new wounds on his stomach. He tore open some stitches, leaving scratches added to the lacerations.

At first, Sam was defiant. He was pouty and thought Dean was only over reacting. Then, he jumped into action once the physical attacks against himself started. Over reacting or not, he couldn't let his brother harm himself. He helped hold him still, helped keep him from being able to injure himself. He banged his head against the floor, causing them to cushion his head. He fought to gain control, only to seem to lose it more and more.

Then, as quickly as it started, it ended. His body stilled and his breathing evened out as he fell into unconsciousness.

They all three took a moment to collect themselves.

"What the hell was that!" John said angrily.

"Panic attack." Bobby answered.

"I know that!" John exclaimed. "I was talking to Sam! What the hell, boy?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to walk on eggshells around him. I'm sorry, but I'm just not!"

"No one is asking you too, but damn! There was no need in the comment you made."

"I didn't mean to say that, it just came out. But, I'm not apologizing for having feelings of my own." Sam pouted in defiance.

"Can we argue about this later?" Bobby interrupted. "How about you two help me get him cleaned up and stitched back up, unless you'd rather sit and argue while he lays here and bleeds to death."

"Talk about being over dramatic." Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head at Bobby's comment. His brother was far from bleeding to death, but Bobby had gotten his point across.

John headed to get the medical supplies needed while Sam got towels and water to wash his brother with.

They had gotten him cleaned up and fresh stitches that where needed in place. Then, together they lifted him into bed. John gathered the cleaning supplies and cleaned the vomit from the floor. Bobby had gathered the dirty laundry, the pants he was wearing that they needed to change.

The fact he had sat in his own vomit, soaking it into the knees of his pants and lost body function during the attack, caused him to need to be both cleaned and changed.

Bobby washed the clothing and John cleaned the room. He had sent Sam to bed as well. His defiance was something he couldn't deal with at that time. He hoped if he got sleep then maybe he would wake in a better mood.

Once they were finished cleaning everything, John checked on Dean one last time. His body laid perfectly still. He told Sam good night and received a grunt in response. He then turned the light off and headed to his own room.

"NOOOOO! STOPPPPPP! GET OFF! NO!" Dean's screams instantly woke the entire house. He shot up in his bed, curled in the corner against the wall.

Sam jumped up and ran to Dean's bed, sitting beside him. "Hey, it's okay, Dean, calm down. Dean!" Sam gave Dean a hard shake with a tight grip on his shoulders.

"NO, help me, please." Dean begged, grabbing fists full of the front of Sam's t-shirt.

"Dean, it's okay, you're safe. It's Sammy, come on, snap out of it."

Dean's breathing increased as his body trembled harder and harder.

"Don't let them come back, please! I'll be good, I promise, I'll do what you say. I'll do exactly what you want. Just please, no more, please." Dean started to sob.

John and Bobby were both in the room almost as quickly as Sam had made it to Dean's side.

"Dean, son." John spoke, making his way onto the bed beside Sam. "It's okay. It's Dad. It's okay."

"Dad?"

"Yeah."

"Dad, I can't take anymore, please don't let them come back, please."

"Dean, it's okay, you're safe now."

"No, no I'm not. They aren't human, I'm not okay."

"Dean? Who's not human?"

"Them. They… there's something different, something wrong with them. I don't know what. I've never seen it before. Some type of magic, or monster, or something." Dean was trying hard to convince his dad what he was saying was true.

John believed him. He had worked the possession out of him, but the fact Dean was bringing it up concerned him. He was concerned that maybe the thing possessing him wasn't completely gone, or maybe it was trying to make its way back inside of him.

"What do they look like?" Bobby questioned.

"I… I don't know. They look like people, like humans, only they aren't. There eyes, they glow, it's a green color, like a glow in the dark green. And their… their… their… body fluids… it was like… it was a green, sticky goo. It wasn't… you know… normal."

John's stomach turned with the thought of what Dean was saying. "Are they here now? Or, just in your dreams?" John asked.

"I… I don't know." Dean looked confused, like he wasn't sure if he had a dream or if it was something that really happened. "It… it was so real."

He sighed, rubbing his hand across his face. "I… I woke up. Something woke me up. I don't know what. I don't know what I was dreaming before, but something woke me, and I… I… I looked up and I felt him. And he was on top of me and I looked into his glowing eyes and he… he…"

Dean's breathing was increasing, his mind going way too fast, his words coming out in uncomplete sentences.

"He… he…"

Dean gagged and started to heave. Bobby grabbed the trash can and placed it in front of Dean, just in time to catch what little was left in his stomach.

He started struggling to get out from under the covers, to get away from whatever it was that had scared him so much. He pushed himself away, crawling into the corner of Sam's bed. Away from the spot he was just at.

"Uh, Dad." Sam's voice sounded like it was a mile away as he got his dad and Bobby's attention.

Where Dean was sitting in the corner was blood. Fresh blood, not old. They pulled his covers back and there was blood under the covers as well.

"Son of a bitch!" John sighed, turning away from the blood and moving toward the shaking body of his son that was huddled in the corner. "Dean, what happened?"

"I couldn't stop him. It was all too fast. I… it… must have been what woke me. I don't know. Dad. I don't know." Dean sobbed out the last part as the tears released from his eyes. "He… he told me that… that…"

Dean started heaving again but there was nothing left to come out. "He told me that I was his… that I couldn't get rid of him this easily. And I tried to scream, but I couldn't. I tried. I tried to push him off. I did. It… it… hurt… it hurts… I… I didn't want… I…"

Dean pushed away from his dad and pushed past Bobby as he made his way out of the room. He had to get away. He had to leave the room. He didn't know where he needed to go, but he knew he didn't need to be in there. It was no longer safe. Not right now.

There was blood where he sat on Sam's bed.

"Dean, wait." John called out to his son. It wasn't safe to leave him alone. Not until they figured out what they were dealing with.

Dean pressed his back against the wall behind him in the hall. He bent the top half of his body over, bending at his knees, he rested his hands on his bent knees, trying to catch the breath that had left him.

"I did what you said." Dean huffed out.

"What?" John questioned.

"I fought. You told me to keep fighting, no matter what, so I did. Somehow, I started screaming. I tried so hard but couldn't, then, I tried hard enough and I could. I stopped him, he had to leave. I guess, Sammy woke up or something? I don't know. But, he didn't get back inside of me. I stopped him before he could."

"How does he get inside of you?" John cringed at his own question.

"Not physically, that's not what I mean. I mean inside, inside. He has to, you know… get uh… his… goo inside… um…"

"Got it." John stopped Dean's struggle to speak. "So, uh, physically, he um…"

"Yeah." Dean's voice was lowered to an almost whisper. His dad had stopped him from his struggle to speak so he thought it only fair to return the favor. He didn't have to finish his question, Dean knew what he was asking.

"So, it wasn't just a dream?"

Dean shrugged and he straightened his back against the wall, giving his stomach wounds some relief. "Guess not."

The thought of Dean being alone didn't settle well with John, which was fine with Dean because if he was honest with himself the thought frightened him too.

Dean curled in a fetal position on John's bed. Bobby, John, and Sam all three sat in the room as well, doing research and trying to figure out what they were dealing with. The new information gave them something new to go by.

They had thought whatever had possessed him was gone, but they were wrong. They all felt a bit guilty, their mistake was Dean's undoing. Their mistake had caused him pain.

Dean restlessly tried to sleep. His groans of pain were impossible to keep inside. Laying still worked for only a moment before he had to change positions to ease the pain. He was laying half on his side and half on his stomach. Between the pain of the lacerations on his stomach and the pain of laying on his back he couldn't find a comfortable position.

His eyes fluttered open with a moan of pain. John moved to sit beside his son, giving his back a gentle rub as Dean struggled to move positions.

"Hurting that bad?" John asked.

"Yeah." Dean released the simple word with a moan of pain as he closed his eyes to try to ease the discomfort.

"Can't give you anything to help right now. Not until we figure out what we're dealing with." Bobby spoke with sympathy. He hated that they couldn't help him.

Dean just moaned as a response.

"Sorry." John replied, still rubbing circles on Dean's back, trying to comfort him any way he could. "It's just, you took something for pain before you went to sleep, and the… thing… whatever it is, came to you again. And, when they originally found you, they said the amount of drugs in your system was enough to kill you. So, we figure, maybe it all has something to do with being drugged. Maybe like, a change in mindset, or control, or something around those lines."

Dean shifted positions with a cry of pain again.

"We'll figure it out, Dean." John finished, still trying to comfort his son the best he could.

"Whatever." Dean really didn't care. He just wanted it all to stop. He wanted his life back. He wanted the pain and discomfort to go away. He didn't care what it took. He didn't care what anyone had to say about it, unless they had something to offer to help then he didn't have the energy to concentrate on them.

John gave Dean a pat on his back. He knew not to take anything personal. He knew his son was trying to be strong, trying to fight through the pain and discomfort. He was trying to deal with everything that had happened the best he could.

Sam just sat in the corner, he attention completely on the laptop in his lap. He listened to what was said around him but didn't take his eyes from the screen.

Dean drifted in and out of sleep. He knew he should help them figure out what was going on with him, but he couldn't seem to get his mind to work properly. He couldn't seem to focus past the pain and events of the night.

Why? Why the hell did this keep happening to him? Why couldn't he just get a damn break for once? He hated his life, hated himself. He had never felt so much inner hate before. But, now, he just couldn't seem to see past it.

Even his dreams while he slept were filled with the hatred he held toward himself. He forced himself awake. He wasn't sure how long he had been sleeping but his dreams only seemed to cause him more anguish. More emotional pain than when he was awake.

He looked around, changing positions again. He only saw Bobby sitting near him.

"Your dad and Sam stepped out of the room for a few." Bobby answered the question he knew was in Dean's head.

Dean nodded.

"Think we know what we're dealing with." Bobby informed Dean.

"Really?" Dean was shocked to hear that.

"Yeah. It's an ancient son of a bitch. Thought to be extinct, guess everyone thought wrong."

"And it finds me, how the hell did I get so lucky?" Dean rolled his eyes with his sarcasm.

"Yeah well, this thing, it's as old as time, at least a thousand years old. But no one has come into contact with it for hundreds of years. Or, at least no one who knows what it was knew they came into contact with it. The thing is, the way it looks to you, that was its last victim. Once it kills them it takes on their form."

"Great! So, when it finishes me off that son of a bitch is going to be wearing my face?"

"It's not going to finish you off, Dean."

"Yeah, okay, looks like he's doing a damn good job at it so far."

"Dean."

"So, how the hell do we get rid of it?"

"Well, not completely sure. We're still working on that."

"Great!"

"But, I do know there's a way. And, I know it's going to fall on you, boy. You're going to have to face it to get rid of it, to kill it for good. Just not exactly sure what all that includes yet."

"Why me? Let someone else deal with it."

"Can't do that, not unless you're willing to let it kill you and find someone else."

Dean looked up at Bobby, confused by what he meant.

"See, Dean, this thing, it hunts first. It finds its victim and hunts them, follows them, studies them, gets to know them. Then, it attacks, goes for the kill. Only it's a slow death, as I'm sure you can imagine."

"Yeah, whatever."

"Dean, I know this is hard on you. And, I know you're trying to be strong, trying to deal with everything, but you really need to lose that attitude. Everyone is working around the clock right now, to save you."

"Maybe they should stop?"

"Is that really what you want?"

"I… I don't know. I mean, this thing, if he hunts and attaches or whatever, then that means I'm stuck with it forever, right?"

"No, not once we figure out what you gotta do to kill it."

"And if I can't? If I'm not strong enough, or whatever? Then it kills me? slowly? Painfully? Kind of like it's doing now?"

"Dean, we'll make sure you're strong enough and able to take care of what needs to be done."

"Damn it, Bobby! Why the hell can't you see I'm not strong right now. I can't even keep myself protected from some thousand-year-old creature."

"Okay, well whenever you decide to stop feeling sorry for yourself and you're ready to hear the rest of what we know, you just let me know, okay?"

Dean sighed. "Bobby…" Dean paused to tighten his jaw and clench his eyes closed as a wave of pain moved through him. "I'm sorry." He said once the pain was bearable again. "It just hurts like hell, okay? I'm trying, I'm just not doing very good at it."

"Damn, boy, why the hell can't you see what we all see? You're one strong son of a bitch, and you're a damn fighter. You have your family watching out for you, helping you in ways you've never had before, and all the hell you want to do is push them away."

Before Dean had a chance to reply Sam and John walked back into the room.

"About time you decided to wake up, jerk." Sam said, seeing Dean leaning against the headboard of the bed, awake, talking to Bobby. Distress evident on his face. He wanted whatever the conversation was to stop.

"Yeah, well, if I knew I'd have to look at your face I'd stayed asleep, bitch." Dean replied, pushing himself off the bed.

"Where're you going?" Bobby asked as Dean headed for the door.

He turned around, frustration had boiled over. He stretched out both arms as a way of surrendering. "To the bathroom, you wanna come hold my hand?" There was way more anger in his tone than he meant to express.

"Watch your tongue, boy!" Bobby snapped back.

Dean turned and left the room. Bobby just shook his head in frustration. Dean had always been the type to take care of himself. He never liked having to depend on other people. Bobby knew this couldn't be easy on him. But, it still didn't give him the right to be disrespectful to those who were trying to help him.

"He gonna be okay?" John asked Bobby as soon as Dean had stepped out.

"You mean being alone? As far as that thing goes, yeah, unless he decides to fill himself full of drugs and fall asleep, he'll be fine. It's a dream creature, he has to be asleep, or a form of it, before it can come to him. It's his sudden outburst of anger I'm concerned about."

"Well, that's Dean for you."

"I just don't wanna have to buy another mirror." Bobby shook his head and let his eyes close as the irritation that was building in him slipped away.

The minutes ticked by and John started getting antsy. He kept glancing back and forth from the door to his research. Every second that passed felt like an eternity. He didn't want to hoover over Dean, but he was also concerned for his safety and wellbeing.

"What the hell took you so long?" Bobby questioned as soon as Dean returned.

"Seriously? Do you want to know every little detail about my trip to the bathroom?" Dean snapped back.

"Dean!" John warned.

Obviously, everyone's stress level was at max and the confining walls didn't seem to be helping any.

Dean leaned his back against the wall. "So, this green goo guy, how exactly does he get to me?"

"It's a dream creature." Bobby informed.

"So, I dreamt him up?"

"No. He only comes in dreams. But not normal dreams. You have to be passed out, from something like… intoxication, or being high, rather it be a simple pain pill or a cocktail of who knows what. Something that's going to interrupt your brain's normal way of functioning. When that happens, while you're in an unconscious state, or close enough to it if you're drunk or high enough it can get inside you."

Dean cringed at those words.

"Then, it basically does exactly what you said, it releases the green gooey stuff that possesses your body. The more stuff it can get into you the more you become… it… and eventually you are gone and, well… dead, and it's taken over your body."

"Sounds delightful!" Dean said sarcastically. "So, I have to be asleep then, right?"

"Yeah." Bobby nodded.

"Good, I'm getting the hell out of these walls that are closing in around me, as long as I stay awake I'm good." Dean didn't wait for a reply before he walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.


	43. Chapter 43

**CHAPTER 43**

"Dean, wait!" John shouted out after his son.

"Let him go, Dad." Sam interrupted his dad from following his brother. "He'll be fine, he's not stupid, you know."

"Yeah, I know he's not, but in case you missed it, he's not exactly acting like himself either."

"Yes, he is."

John looked over at Sam, confusion on his face. "How so?"

Sam pulled in a deep breath and took his eyes away from the computer screen in front of him, he looked seriously at his dad. "Just because this may be the first time he's had the balls to act out in front of you, doesn't mean that he's not acting like himself." Sam raised his eyebrows, hoping his dad understood what he was saying.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on! After everything we have talked about, after all the research I did, that you said you read, you have to seriously ask me that?"

"Why? Because I'm some shitty parent who neglected you boys and made you live out on the streets and sell yourselves?" Of course, John was over reacting by his comment, but he was getting just as fed up with everything as everyone else was.

Sam rolled his eyes. "Yeah, something like that, only I'm not the one who sold myself, remember." Sam said sarcastically. "Look, all I'm saying is I've been around him my whole life, I've seen every side of him there is to see, and you haven't. In case you missed it, you haven't exactly been around much of our lives. This is exactly how he acts when he feels cornered and doesn't have control over the situation."

"John, this isn't a blame game, Sam isn't saying anything about you, it's just, well, that's normal 'Dean behavior' in times like this." Bobby intervened before the situation got out of hand.

"Is he gonna be okay… you know… alone?" John asked Bobby

"As long as he doesn't get intoxicated and stays awake, yeah." Bobby replied.

"He's not going anywhere." Sam added. "Just gotta blow off some steam. Beat the hell out of some cars. Or, if he's needing to calm down then he'll find a car to work on. Either way he'll be fine."

"Boy's right." Bobby concluded.

John just shook his head. Something in his gut didn't feel right. "In case you've missed it we've already had to stitch him up a couple times because he had to 'blow off some steam' and frankly, I'm getting a little fed up with the blood loss Dean seems to think he needs."

He didn't wait for a reply back before heading downstairs. He couldn't handle being so far from Dean when he was in a danger they knew nothing about. He didn't go after him, he just wanted to be as close as he could, he needed to fill his own desires to keep his kids safe.

He sat on the couch and read through a stack of books until Dean came back inside. He looked worn down. Obvious that Sam's first assessment had been correct and Dean had beat the hell out of some cars. His eyes were red and puffy like he had been crying. Understandable given the situation they were facing.

Dean made his way toward his dad, leaning against a nearby wall. He took a moment to watch his dad. At first, John tried to ignore him, to keep reading, but he couldn't. He soon looked up at his oldest son who was standing, back against the wall, across from him.

"You okay?" John asked, concern had taken the place of the earlier frustration.

"Yes sir."

"You sure?"

Dean closed his eyes lightly and held them closed for a short moment, swallowing deeply, he just shrugged both shoulders, bending his body at the waist and placing his hands on his knees. He held that position for a couple minutes before straightening his back.

John noticed he hadn't seen Dean sit since before the incident occurred the night before. He had laid in bed, attempted to sleep, restless, uncomfortable. But, he hadn't really sat.

He used the next few minutes to continue observing his son. He seemed to be out of breath, like he had just run ten miles. But, John knew he hadn't. His kid must just be that exhausted, that worn down. Or, perhaps he was hiding pain. They all knew Dean had been hurt, plus the butcher job he had done to his own stomach, but maybe he was hurting more than he let anyone know.

The more John watched Dean the more he noticed, he wasn't just out of breath, like he had run, he was gasping for air. He was having some sort of difficulty breathing. But, John wasn't sure why.

"Sit down, before you pass out." John broke the silence with a command that Dean couldn't do.

"I'm okay." Dean gasped out.

"Dean, sit down, that's an order."

"I can't." His voice was quiet, he had to work it around the lump of tears that threatened to show themselves. He had to push the words out with what little breath he had to push with.

"Hurting?"

Dean just nodded, bending so his hands were on his knees again. It only took a moment before his knees gave out and he hit the floor. The motion was followed by a painful grunt.

Instantly, John was knelt in front of him, his hands on his shoulders, giving him support he needed so he wouldn't faceplant the floor. Dean reached his hands out and placed them on John's shoulders to catch his balance. He pressed his head against his dad's chest. His body had started trembling with the discomfort he was feeling.

"Hey, Dean, it's okay, Champ, I got you." John had spoken with calmness.

"Dad?"

"Yeah."

"I… I don't think I can do this."

"Yeah, you can. You've always been stronger than anything you've had to face, and this is no different. We just gotta figure out exactly what we have to do."

"You mean ME!"

"What?"

"You mean, you have to figure out what I need to do. Bobby told me I have to get rid of it, or it will kill me. That it all falls on me."

"We don't know that for sure, not yet."

"Doesn't matter."

John pulled Dean's body away from his so he could look him in his eyes. "Why not?"

"Because, I know one way to keep it from getting me again."

"And, how's that?"

"If I'm not around then it can't touch me, right?"

"Yeah, but it will follow you wherever you go."

"Not to the grave."

"What the hell does that mean?"

Dean dropped his eyes to the floor.

"Dean!" John's voice turned stern. "We are not going through this again, do you understand me? You are not going anywhere. Dead or alive, you're not going anywhere. I'm not going to lose you!"

"I'm not strong enough." Dean huffed out with the breath he didn't realize he was holding.

It was at that moment Dean realized his frustration wasn't as much over the entire situation as it was this raw honesty that he was being forced to express. So much of him had been laid out for everyone to see. What he hadn't laid out, Sam had let known with his research into the past.

Dean wanted more than anything to be able to turn back the hands of time. Not to undo what had been done, but to build his walls of defenses back up. At some point, he wasn't sure exactly when, they had crumbled and fallen and let in something no one was prepared for. He just wanted to build them back, to hide himself away from everyone and everything.

That's what he had always done. He had always put on an act of toughness, took care of what needed to be taken care of, and let the steam blow off when killing the monsters of the night. Only, this time, the monster was himself, or something that was trying to possess him, again.

Dean had gone outside earlier to clear his head. He needed some space to think. Usually the answer would be black and white. If the monster was anyone else, they would have all just killed the person who was possessed and moved on to the next job. But, this was different.

That was it, that was the answer, or so Dean thought. Why did this have to be any different? Why was he worth saving but the others weren't? They had killed so many innocent people over their lifespans. So many people, just like him, who had become possessed, over powered, by something they didn't choose. Rather it be demons or vampire blood or even a werewolf bite, the victims didn't choose it.

They didn't want to become monsters, but they did, and they got killed because of it. So, why was Dean any better than them? Why was he worth saving and they weren't?

The answer was simple, really. It was because he was family. Because, they had an emotional bond to him, so, if they weren't able to take care of the problem, to kill the monster, Dean figured he would have to do it for them.

"BOBBY!" John shouted from downstairs, still holding onto Dean.

Dean was swaying, back and forth on his knees. He held onto fists full of his dad's shirt, his forehead leaned against John's chest. His body trembled and the tears dripped to the floor unchecked. He wore a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt that was covered by a black hoodie. It wasn't easy to see, not until the blood had puddled around his knees.

John was on his knees on the floor, facing Dean. He had his hands on each shoulder, holding his son up. He slipped one hand around to his back and gave him gentle rubs as his oldest son leaned forward, putting his weight against his chest, and cried silent tears. He knew Dean was crying, but his knees started feeling wet. Dean wasn't crying that much, his tears were falling on the tops of John's legs, not beneath his knees.

He shifted slightly and looked to the ground between the two of them, that's when he noticed to puddle of blood that seemed to be dripping from under Dean's shirt. He called for Bobby, knowing he'd need help taking care of him. He hadn't seen it yet but judging by the amount of blood and the physical appearance of Dean when he came back inside, he figured it was at least as bad as last time, if not worse.

Bobby rushed toward the panicked cry of his friend, Sam following close behind.

"Aw, balls! Boy, what the hell did you go and do this time?" Bobby sighed at the sight of the blood. "Sam, first aid kit, now." He added as he knelt beside Dean and started removing his shirt.

They had hoped all he had done was tear the stitches, but as Winchester luck would have it, they weren't so lucky. They weren't clean cuts this time, not done with a knife. Of course not, they had removed any weapons from his use. This looked like it was done with a jagged piece of metal, a dirty rusty one at that. Possibly something off an old car out in the yard.

He had gashes that went across his chest, the deepest being on his left side. They weren't sure if that was because he was using his right hand or if he was purposefully trying to cut at his heart. The majority of them where centered around the area of his heart. They made their way down his chest and abdomen to just above his pelvic area. He had even managed to make some nasty gashes on his left arm.

His right hand had been sliced from holding the object he used on himself, but because of Dean's physical appearance and mental wellbeing John hadn't noticed the blood from his hand. Plus, Dean had done a good job keeping it pressed to his pants and wiped clean while he stood a distance from his dad.

Bobby shook his head at the injuries. John's heart sank, and Sam seemed socked at the severity of it.

"Hey! Boy, what the hell did you do?" Bobby gave Dean's shoulder a shake. "You stay the hell awake, you hear me?"

Dean's eyes were drifting open and closed, his facial expression was void of any emotions. His body, limp and ridged. His skin was clammy and sweaty. His breathing was… just off. One moment he would be breathing fast and hard, then the next moment he wouldn't be breathing at all, and sometimes his breathing was normal, but would quickly change. His jaw muscles were tight, not from pain, he didn't express any knowledge of pain, this was from something completely different.

"Uhhh…" Sam stood, staring at his brother. "Did he, um… is he drunk or something?"

"What?" John questioned. "Why the hell would you think that?"

"I don't know." Sam raised one shoulder in a shrug. "He looks… high… or something."

"Sam, come help Bobby, I'll be back." John said, quickly changing places with Sam and making his way outside.

Sam and Bobby just shrugged at each other.

"Just keep the idjit awake, will ya?" Bobby stated. "He's made one hell of a mess and it's gonna take quite a few stitches."

Sam just nodded at Bobby and turned his attention to Dean. He was laying on his back on the floor, the puddle of blood had started clotting beside him. Sam had sat beside him, resting Dean's head in his lap. He stroked his sweat filled hair back.

"What the hell did you do?" Sam asked Dean, almost too quietly. The words fought their way out, being held back by the ball of emotions that was building in his chest. "Hey! Open your eyes and talk to me! Don't you dare do this to me! I need you! I need my big brother watching my back! You hear me?"

Dean fluttered his eyes open and looked up at Sam. He wasn't even registering the fact someone was pushing a needle and thread through his skin.

"Dean! What the hell, man?" Sam sobbed out as a few tears dripped from his face.

Dean reached up with a shaky, blood covered hand and wiped the tears from his brother's face, leaving a streak of his blood in place of the tears.

"S'mmy." Dean mumbled.

"Yeah, it's me. It's me." Was all Sam could manage to get out through the building tears.

"S'mmy, it's okay. Imma… gonna take care of it for you." Dean's voice sounded so weak, so exhausted with a hint of slurring of his words.

"Take care of what? Hmm, Dean? Take care of what?" Sam was concerned but also angry at his brother.

Okay, maybe he wasn't actually angry at Dean, he was angry at the situation, and like always he seemed to lash out at Dean. But, Dean was always a safe place to let his emotions loose. He had always been there as an outlet. He always understood and anything Sam would say that was out of line, Dean would forgive and forget. Just like that, in his big brother ways. Sam realized how close he has come to not having the safety of his big brother, so many times over such a short period of time.

"I… I'm gonna kill it."

"How? You don't know how to kill it, Dean. But, Bobby and I have been figuring that part out, you just gotta give us a little more time."

"If… if I kill me then I kill it."

"No! that's not how this works, Dean. If you kill yourself then it just moves on to someone else and lives in them. Don't you get it? Is that what you were trying to do? To kill yourself? Is that why you cut yourself all to hell and put who knows what in your body?"

"I'm k… killlllling… it." Dean's words were becoming slurred and incoherent.

"How, Dean, how did you try to kill yourself?" Sam asked, needing to know the answer so they could help him.

Dean just shook his head, slowly. He knew if he told him then he would stop everything. Of course, part of his plan was to bleed out, which was already being stopped without his knowledge.

"GOT IT!" John announced quickly as he ran through the front door and dropped to the floor beside the others. He held up two empty bottles of pills.

"Listen to me!" Sam shook Dean, making him open his eyes again. He received a hatful look from Bobby, who was trying to stitch him up as Sam shook him. "You can not face this thing! Not yet, not without knowing. You gotta stay awake, you got that, Dean? Stay awake!"

"Dean, son, how many of these did you take?"

Dean raised his eyebrows in an attempt to answer, truthfully, he had no idea what the answer was. 'All of them' would have been his answer if he was able to just speak, able to remember what the hell that answer was for, what his dad was talking about. His heavy eyes tried to focus on his dad. He couldn't seem to focus on anything. He wasn't sure why, but he couldn't. His eyes felt like they had weights attached, pulling them closed.

Sam's voice. Dean would know it anywhere. He tried to focus. He caught a few words but didn't understand their meaning. "Awake" he understood that word, but he thought he was awake, why did Sam keep shaking him. Didn't he know how much that hurt? He couldn't help it if he had weights attached to his eyes. If someone would just take the weights off then he could open them.

Sam kept telling him to open his eyes and look at him, he did, but everything was still pitch black. There were moments of light, moments of blurry movement around him, then it would all go black again. He didn't understand. He felt so exhausted, all he wanted to do was sleep, but they wouldn't let him.

They made him stay awake, kept shaking him. And, someone kept poking him in his chest. He wondered why. He imagined someone standing over him with a pin just poking it into him then removing it, only to poke it again.

Dean grimaced as he sucked in a deep gulp of air, whatever that was just done to him hurt like hell. That was more than just a small poke. That felt like his heart was going to explode. It felt like so much pressure. Like someone had reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart. Maybe that's why there were so many pokes? Maybe they were slowly poking away at his body so they could grasp his heart and squeeze it as hard as they could.

He rolled on his side, toward Bobby and John. He didn't know, didn't care what way he turned or who he faced, but he made sure his head stayed on Sam's lap. He bent his legs and pulled them into a fetal position. He reached up and clutched at his chest, clawing at the invisible hand that was tightening its grip.

Bobby was still trying to stitch him, to stop the bleeding but had to stop due to the sudden onset of unbearable pain. Dean's chest hurt like hell and he was only subconsciously reacting to it. His breathing became rapid and shallow, his body released all its functions as he urinated and soiled his own pants. He couldn't control the full body shakes that made them question if he was having a seizure.

The pain. Where did all this pain come from? Why the hell couldn't he breathe? Why couldn't he see, or hear anymore? He couldn't feel. Where did everyone go? There used to be hands, touching him, shaking him, he knew they were there, but now they aren't. Was he alone? Did they come just to cause him this pain and then leave?

He had gotten used to that. They would come, cause pain, make him hurt and then feel good. They would leave him feeling like he was floating on a cloud, a cloud surrounded by darkened silence, much like this moment, right now. He was used to it, so why the hell was it scaring him so much?

He tried, he struggled to take a breath, struggled to move, struggled to do anything but failed. He had stopped grasping for the hand that was holding his heart. Is arm fell limp beside him. His body stopped shaking. His breaths stopped coming. In an instant, everything was calm and still… too still.


	44. Chapter 44

**CHAPTER 44**

He thought his head was clear when he walked out of the house. But, his head hasn't been clear for weeks, maybe even months. Life has thrown curve ball after curve ball and as hard as he swings he feels like he keeps striking out.

He tries. He concentrates hard on the pitcher and keeps his eye on the ball. He thinks its heading straight, then at the last minute, when he's ready to swing, the ball curves and he strikes out. Defeated by this game called life, he hangs his head and drags his bat behind him as he slowly, shamefully, makes his way back to the dugouts.

He made his way through the maze of cars. They usually brought him such comfort, there was nothing like seeing something old and broken come back to life. But, right now, he was the thing that was broken and wasn't sure if it would even be possible to renew the life that had been lost within himself.

His head was spinning, it was swirling around, like a Farris wheel, stuck on turbo, going way too fast, thoughts flinging off of it, bouncing around his head in screams of horror.

He fell to his knees in the middle of the wreckage that surrounded him. He reached up with his hands and held tight to the sides of his head. He just wanted to make it all go away. He needed a relief, somehow. But, every time he tried something new just got in his way. And, here he was again, facing the same thing he keeps facing. It was like life was playing a joke on him. He could hear it laughing at him if he listened close enough.

He could imagine what someone felt like when they were told they had cancer, or another terminal illness, because that's exactly the way he feels at this very moment. He feels like his life is over, like he has no way of escaping the inevitable. The problem is, the inevitable only causes pain, so much pain, so much physical pain and emotional pain mixed together.

The pain only brings sympathy and sorrow. He can see it in everyone's eyes. The way they look at him, the way they speak to him, the way they act around him, like he's fragile glass that's going to shatter if they move too fast or step too hard. They treat him like he's dying, like they know the truth but have the need to keep it from him, to imagine it isn't there.

He's always been the stone wall, impossible to tare down. When had he become so fragile, so easily broken? He let the tears slip down his cheeks. He was alone, it didn't really matter. But, he had cried too many tears in front of too many people lately, so it really didn't matter. That only increased his awareness of his own weakness, causing more sympathy from those around him.

He was empty inside. He thought things were getting better, he thought he was getting better. He had a ray of hope, as crazy and childish at that may sound. But, Sam's research gave him hope that maybe not only would he be able to understand himself but his dad would be able to understand him too.

He just wanted to feel normal. For once in his life, all he wanted was to be normal. He didn't want to be a freak anymore. He didn't want to be the one that was labeled crazy or possessed or anything along those lines. He would be fine with the normal he had grown to know, but, even that normal seemed so far from him right now. He was a freak even in his family's eyes.

The only thing he ever wanted in his life, the thing he strived for the most, was to show strength. He wanted to be strong in his dad's eyes. He wanted his dad to be proud of him, to see him as a man equal to him. But, now, all that had been lost. Now, he was just a broken empty shell full of nothing but tears and pain.

He wondered, if he was a freak, if he was possessed and his life was doomed anyhow, then what the hell did it matter? What did his life matter? Any job they worked that they came across someone like himself, they would kill them, kill the monster they had become, the monster that lived inside.

That monster was him. He was the monster this time, and he deserved the same treatment the others would get. He deserved to be destroyed. He wasn't any more important than anyone else, in fact he was less important. The other innocent people out there, trapped into becoming a monster or demon, at least they had a shot at a real life. They could make a difference in this world. They could become somebody. But, he would never have that chance. His chance died with his mom 22 years ago.

He had always been a man, a real man, tough and strong. He loved his women, maybe a little too much at times. He loved the way they looked, the way they felt and tasted. He loved everything about them. It didn't matter what body shape they had or the hair color. Sure, he had his preferences, but ultimately it didn't really matter to him, he loved them all. They all brought something different into his life, each one as unique as the last, as unique as the next.

But, now his life had been reduced to men. It wasn't his choosing, but it was his undoing. He hated it, everything about it. He hated the way they felt, and smelled, but mostly he hated the way they tasted. The thought of the foulness of another man caused bile to build in the back of his throat that landed in a pile on the ground in front of him.

He picked up a sharp, jagged piece of metal that sat beside one of the cars. His heart ached, all he wanted to do was get rid of the ache, cut out the pain. He pulled his shirt up to see the healing wounds he had caused himself and sliced a new line over the left side of his chest.

The taste, the sight, the horror. His body shook as he leaned forward onto his hands and knees. He finished emptying the contents of his stomach before he rocked himself back to a seat position. He couldn't even manage to stand. He couldn't manage to get his brain to function properly. This needed to stop.

Another slice across his heart, another slice down his side and to his stomach. It didn't take him long to realize the deeper the better.

His head spun and spun and spun. It wouldn't stop. All he wanted was for it to stop. Memories flashed through his eyes. Pictures, short videos, playing in his head.

Another slice, a line of blood flow followed the piece of metal he held in his hand.

He was on his knees, so young, just a boy, on his knees. The gravel dug into his tender flesh, leaving marks. The men, one by one, left their own marks, dripping into his body and over his face and chest.

Another physical mark left by his own hands across his chest.

Older, more experienced, but it still left its mark, they left their mark. The first time he had felt a finger go inside of him made his breath stop. His body tightened and trembled. They said it would be okay. They said it was good, that he would enjoy it. He didn't and nothing about it was okay, but he had to take care of his little brother. He had to make sure Sammy was fed, no matter what it did to him.

A new line trailed beside the one he had just cut into his skin.

That taste, the taste that had him vomiting the moment he returned home, or sooner, depending on how many men he had satisfied. The smell of sweaty bodies combined with their fluids that were released. The showers he would take, trying to scrub the filth from him, scratching and clawing at his own fluid covered body.

Another slice, deep into his tender skin, leaving smeared blood on his torso, trailing down his stomach. He stopped just below the waistband, at the top of his pelvic area. He sliced away but couldn't bring himself to go anywhere near the place that had been violated so severely.

His mind was back in the room, Sam chained to the wall. He was tied to a table, on his stomach. He wasn't even sure how he had gotten there, what was happening. The pain. The pain was so unbelievable. The pain. The smell. The… The pain.

Another fresh line, more blood dripped.

The pain hurt more than just physically. The pain was too much, too unbearable. He needed it to stop. It was past the point of being a want, it was a need!

He sliced another line across his torso, across the top of his heart. Why couldn't this just stop?

He was laying on a mattress, in a room with others. He felt funny, he couldn't stop anything from happening, couldn't move. He tried but got punished for trying to fight. The pain, it was there. It was too much, too, too incredibly too much. Some, hurt more than others, but it was still too much. He couldn't handle the feeling inside, the twisting and turning, like his insides were being rung, and the pain that filled his being.

Another slice tried to take the emotional pain away but didn't seem to replace it with any physical pain. Numbness. That's all he could physically feel, numbness.

He had, somehow, managed to stay a virgin, in that aspect, but not anymore. Now, he was more than not a virgin, he was destroyed. Shattered. No one, man or woman, would ever want him again. Destroyed. Damaged.

A deeper line tried to make its way through his heart.

He remembers feeling the thing, god it hurt worse than anything. He knew the liquid was his own blood. It felt like his insides were torn through his skin. The pain. Too much pain.

The lines continued to grow but he still couldn't feel them. His hands bloody from the grip he held on the jagged piece.

Then again, he felt it again. It wasn't the same as the others. This one felt different. It was there too much, the breaks between would be filled with normal men, but then it would be back, tearing at his insides until he was sure all his blood was drained.

Another line drawn across his arm and chest and heart and stomach. And, he just wanted it to stop. He wanted his head to stop. He wanted to lay down, to hide in darkness and never see light again.

It had stopped, it had stopped because it got what it wanted, it had turned him into the monster.

He was a monster. He was a monster. He sliced one more line into his heart and dropped the metal onto the ground. It landed in the pool of blood that had built at his knees.

Absentminded, Dean stumbled across the junkyard and into his own private spot he had created for himself several years ago. It was filled with so much, Dean didn't even remember everything he had put there, but he knew whatever he needed, that's where he'd find it.

He crawled into the back of the broken-down car, it was surrounded by vehicle death, much like the death he felt inside himself. He grabbed a few things and made his way out of the car and across the yard. He pressed his back against his beloved Baby and let his body slip to the ground.

He was a monster. The pain had turned him into one. He didn't understand it at the time, but he did now. He popped open the lid of a pill bottle. He poured a couple out into his hand and tossed them in his mouth, washing them down with the bottle of whiskey that sat at his side.

He was no better than the things they hunted. Another couple pills washed down with a gulp of whiskey.

His life was doomed but no one would do anything about it. If they wouldn't then he would. That was all there was too it. He felt so weak at this moment, he had lost all hope, all will to go on.

Six pills filled his palm and flooded down his throat with the force of the burning whiskey.

He had failed. Plain and simple. He had failed in life. He had failed Sam. He had failed Bobby. But, worse of all, he had failed his dad.

Another handful of pills flushed down his throat, and the bottle he held was empty. He dropped it to his side and picked up the second bottle. He popped the lid off the bottle and poured them into his hand. He didn't waste time, not with this bottle, he poured all the contents into his hand and tossed them into his mouth. He washed them down with the remainder of his whiskey.

Sam, he had failed Sam. He needed to make things right. Dad, he needed to make things right with Dad too. God, he was starting to feel… funny… the same way he did when he was tied to the mattress in that room. He needed to make it quick, before his act was complete. He pushed himself up, leaving smeared bloody hand prints across his Baby. He popped the trunk and grabbed a hoodie to cover the blood on his shirt.

He wiped his hands down his pants to clean the blood and stumbled into the house. By the time he made it to the front door, all he wanted to do was collapse on the couch and allow himself to fall into the darkness. He wanted it to be done, finished, he wanted the monster dead.

But, when he entered the room, his dad sat on the couch. He was there. Worried about Dean. He tried not to act like he was, but Dean could tell, it was like basic instinct knowing what his family was thinking and feeling. That's how he kept himself safe. That's how he kept them safe and taken care of.

Dean leaned against the wall. The pain had started flooding in. Somehow, what was once numb, was coming in like a vengeance. He struggled to breath around the pain and the floating feeling in his head. He tried to stay upright, using the wall for support.

His dad was talking to him. He tried to concentrate. Tried to carry on a conversation. How the hell could he tell him? If he told him then he would do everything in his power to stop it. It was already too late, but that didn't mean his dad wouldn't try. And, Dean did not want Dad trying to save him. The monster needed to die, and he knew it. They all should know it, but for some reason they seemed to be blinded by the fact the monster was Dean.

He fought to stand but failed at that too. His dad was there. His gentle, loving touch. The concern in his voice. The passion in his touch. What the hell did he do? How could he destroy his family like this? How could he have done this without even telling his dad?

His mind spun and his body became numb again. He couldn't make sense of anything. He heard something, something loud. Like a yell, a short scream.

Bobby, was that Bobby? He wasn't completely sure, but he thought it was. His shirt was gone. He could tell by the coldness that filled his chest. Or, maybe he was just dying, the coldness filling him before he took his last breath.

Oh god, it was Sammy. He always knew Sam, no matter how lost he was, Sam was the one thing he could always seem to find. 'I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry.' Dean said in his head, unable to speak. Unable to move.

There was a sharp, unbearable pain in his chest forcing him to roll on his side, but he needed Sam. He kept his head touching him. Somehow it had ended up in his lap, he wasn't sure how, but he was thankful for the touch of his brother.

He couldn't keep his eyes straight, even with them closed, he could feel them pulling to the back of his head with more force than he could ever imagine. His body ached. It felt so tight. He wasn't completely sure, but he thought maybe he was shaking. Everything seemed blurred and he wasn't sure what was going on anymore, even his own body was betraying him.

Sammy. Sammy kept talking to him, telling him to open his eyes, he tried but couldn't anymore. Suddenly, he couldn't seem to take another breath. His heart hurt, his chest tight. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. No matter how many times he tried, he failed, no air would come in and no air would go out.

The edges of his vision grayed then completely blackened out, covering his vision until it was gone. The voices and movement around him had stopped a while ago. He couldn't feel his brother anymore. Couldn't sense anyone in the room with him. But, then again, it wasn't exactly like he could sense his own body either. He was floating. Floating on a cloud, in darkness, in silence. Just him and this cloud, floating to who knows where.

Then there was a force of air filling his lungs. He gasped with the breath, but couldn't seem to draw another one in. Again, a force of air filled his lungs, causing him to gasp and try to cough, but coughing seemed too hard, too much effort that he didn't have.

There was a pressure on his chest, it felt like it was pressing in, like a pulse, trying to crack every rib, or maybe it was just trying to shatter his sternum?

Everything started to fade in his mind. Everything was turning into a blissful peace, a darkness like he had never experienced before. He wanted so badly to stay here, but he knew with the way his life has been going, he wouldn't have such luck.

Another forced breath brought some clarity back to the darkness. It brought life back to what Dean wanted to die.

Darkness flooded in and he lost all control of his mind. It went blank… just like the rest of his body.


	45. Chapter 45

**CHAPTER 45**

It seemed like a lifetime had just flashed before them. John had rocked back onto his knees once his dying son was finally able to hold his own heartbeat and take his own breath. They may both be weak, but they were his.

Dean's seizure had turned into cardiac arrest, stopping his own breath. With maximum effort from the three of them and a nicely placed IV-line CPR was a success and Dean was still alive. None of them were sure if he was trying to kill himself or if that was just a consequence of his behavior.

John had never been so thankful for Bobby's well stocked medical supplies, the bags of fluids were pushed through Dean's body as quickly as was possible, flushing out the drugs from his system. He still hadn't woken up, still hadn't regained control of his own body as he urinated out the forced fluids, only adding to what he had already done.

Once again, the men cleaned Dean before he regained consciousness, saving him the humiliation and embarrassment of having soiled himself. Washed off with fresh clothes, plastic laid out on the couch, covered by a blanket for comfort and protection, they lifted Dean and laid him to sleep on the couch.

They couldn't leave him, they all knew that. If they did, especially with as lost as his mind was, the creature was sure to come. But, as long as someone was awake and watching over him they were certain it wouldn't be able to manifest itself, if it did then it risked being killed.

John was concerned the creature would still visit Dean, in his dreams, it may not leave the physical effects it seeks, but it was sure to leave mental damage on an already damaged mind.

John had taken first shift, watching over his oldest son. Sam and Bobby continued their research, finding what they needed to kill this thing. Unfortunately, everything they found pointed to Dean being the one who had to kill it. They both sighed, not sure if he was strong enough to do what needed to be done.

They knew he was strong, but his mind wasn't in a safe place right now and he obviously wasn't thinking with a straight mind.

Dean's head jerked, his body followed. Just small jerks, nothing to make John think he was having a seizure. He rubbed a hand down his tired face. As he looked at his sleeping son he realized, as hard as things have been on him lately, and it has been hard and exhausting, it was even harder on Dean.

Dean must have been exhausted beyond exhausted. His body not only plagued with the mental images and memories, but also the physical pain that seemed to be ever present. If someone, or something, else wasn't causing it then he was causing it with his own hands.

John couldn't even begin to understand it, but he knew self-harm was a real thing, it was normal in a situation like the one Dean was facing. His heart ached for his son. He realized Dean would have to be in some intense mental pain to go to those lengths. He had always been so strong. He's always pushed his way through everything, but now, he was giving up, doing what he needed to rid himself of the never-ending torture that seemed to plague him.

Dean mumbled and groaned, tossing his head, slowly, back and forth. His eyes tightened, then released, obvious signs of pain and discomfort filled his facial features, then they would change to fear. His mouth twitched with the emotions that flooded him. His body tightened, released, tightened. His breathing increased, but was unable to keep up, so it slowed to the bare minimum to sustain life, then once it had rested, it increased again. His heartrate doing much the same.

A muffled grunt of pain escaped Dean's clenched jaw. His eyes were screwed tightly closed. One hand was gripping the side of the couch, his head tilted back, as if he was looking at the ceiling. A deep-rooted groan of discomfort and pain echoed through John's ears. Dean's body trembled with hitched breaths.

"Shhhh, shhhh." John rubbed his son's forehead and slicked his hair back. He was covered in a layer of sweat. "It's okay, Dean. It's Dad. I'm right here." He tried to comfort him, unsure if he could even hear him.

Dean rolled his head toward his dad, relaxing his neck a little as he did. His breathing increased. His body tightened as his arms flared about, one settling on the back of the couch, grasping it, the other had located John's arm, causing a death grip to be squeezed, leaving bruises of fingerprints behind.

Dean screamed out in pain.

"Shhhhh, it's okay, I'm right here, Champ, I'm right here, it's okay."

"Dddddad?" Dean's voice sounded so weak, so worn out, so broken.

"Yeah, yeah, it's me. Can you open your eyes for me?"

Dean tried but failed.

"It's okay, take your time, it's okay."

Dean's body started trembling. "Dddadd… ddadd… dadd…" He repeated the one single word, allowing himself a shaky breath between each one.

John stroked Dean's forehead, wiped the sweat from his face, slicked his hair back, giving him soothing words to keep him calm and comfortable.

Dean continued to fight what was going on in his head. He followed up the physical indications of a struggle with the moans and grunts of discomfort and pain. After a few more minutes of struggling, Dean managed to slit open his eyes. His lashes covering most of the slit that had opened.

Everything was blurry. He couldn't remember anything that had happened or why he was where he was at. The pain of the laceration hit him like a ton of bricks. He curled into himself, the arm on the back of the couch curled around his body, the one holding his dad only tightened its grip.

"Shhhh, it's okay, son. I'm right here, I got you. It's all going to be okay." John rubbed Dean's back as he rolled into a tight ball on his side.

"It hurts." Dean pouted out.

"I know, son, I know it does."

"Wwww… wwwhat…" Dean struggled to talk but found it increasingly difficult.

"Do you remember what happened?" John asked, he figured that was what Dean was trying to ask.

Dean shook his head, he couldn't even seem to force the word 'no' out at that moment.

"It's okay. We'll discuss it later. But, right now, the only thing you need to know is I need you to stay awake. Okay?"

Dean nodded, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Dean, open your eyes, son."

He fought to open them again. He felt drugged but couldn't remember why. He knew there was a reason to stay awake, but he couldn't remember the reason.

"Dddad?" Dean struggled to understand.

"It's okay, Dean. Just stay awake for me, okay?"

He nodded. "Tttthe… the… thing?" It was more of a question than a statement. He couldn't exactly remember what thing he was talking about, but something in his head told him to be afraid of something that wasn't human.

"Yeah, the thing, Dean. You have to stay awake so the dream creature doesn't get you."

Dean crinkled his forehead. "Tttturn… me… mmmmonnnster…"

"Something like that."

Nausea hit him from nowhere. Dean tried to pull himself up, using his Dad's arm, he wasn't able, his head spun which made him feel sicker. He started to heave as John reached over and grabbed the nearby trash can. He helped roll Dean over the edge of the couch, supporting his head that was now hanging over the trash can. He emptied his stomach, his body shaking uncontrollably, he never lost his grip on his dad if anything it only tightened once again.

"There you go, let it out." John soothed his son. "Get it out of your system."

The pain to his newly stitched lacerations only increased with the force of vomiting, leaving tears streaked down Dean's face. He laid his body back with a stifled cry of pain, his eyes screwed tightly closed.

"Hurts." Dean cried out through the tears.

"I know, just try to relax, let your muscles relax."

Dean's breathing increased as his mind cleared. "Dad, I… I can't…" Dean sobbed.

"Yes, you can! You hear me? Yes, you can!"

John grabbed Dean into a hug, wrapping both arms around him and lifting his top half into him embrace, holding him against his own chest.

"You're not going anywhere, you're going to fight this thing."

John let his tears fall, dripping onto the top of Dean's head.

"I don't feel good."

"Yeah, I'd say not. Boy, you fucking died on us! You're damn lucky we all know CPR and Bobby has a nice stock of medical supplies. What the hell where you thinking?"

Dean looked up at his dad, confused. He shrugged his shoulders, noticing the tears falling from his dad's face. "I… I don't really… remember… everything… I'm not sure…" He stuttered, trying his best to remember what his dad was talking about, and taking in the words he just said. He just told Dean he had died, they saved him, brought him back from death.

"Dean!" Sam's voice came from behind him. "About time you decided to wake your ass up!"

Dean just gave his brother a half nod, not really sure about everything going on around him.

Sam sat on the edge of the couch at Dean's feet. He gave Dean's legs a slap. "You ever try anything like that again and I'll kill you myself!"

Dean noticed the change in Sam's tone, it had some anger mixed with concern.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Why did everyone keep asking him that? "I… I don't…"

Another wave of nausea hit him, he wasn't as lucky this time, the bile rose at the same time the nausea hit, causing him to choke out the vomit onto his face and chest as his dad grabbed his shoulders and turn him so he was on his side, his head over the edge and at the trash can again.

The cry of pain was deeper this time. His jaw clenched as he rolled back over.

"You deserve it!" Sam sounded pissed.

"I… I don't know what…" Dean stopped, looked around at the men in the room. Confusion setting in even deeper. It had to be bad, given the looks on everyone's face, and the concern. He died, that's what John had said. They did CPR on him. That's what John had said. He looked directly at Sam. "What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

Dean shook his head.

"You tried to kill yourself, dumbass! You downed a couple bottles of pills with a bottle of whiskey and did one hell of a hack job on your chest and stomach." Sam ended with his famous bitch face.

Dean was even more confused. "Why?"

"Don't know, was hoping you could tell us."

Dean just shrugged his shoulders. He looked at each of the three men. "I don't remember anything. I'm sorry." He apologized, but he wasn't sure exactly what for.

"Not surprised." Bobby spoke up. "You have enough crap in you to kill you. Oh, wait, you already did that, you damn idjit!"

Dean looked down, ashamed. If what they were saying was true, and he had no reason to doubt them, then he successfully killed himself, saved only by them restarting his heart. Then, that made him the weakest man he knew. He was lower than low and didn't deserve to be alive. He didn't deserve to be saved.

"Okay, that's enough." John sighed. "Dean, from now until I say different, you are under watch. You are not allowed to be alone, if you use the bathroom, someone stands outside the door. If that's a problem then I can always have someone join you while you're in there."

"Seriously? Dad!" Dean started to protest but was quickly stopped by his dad.

"Yes, seriously. Dean, this is serious! First, I'm not losing you again, you understand me? If you think that I'm going to give you the chance to go off and do something as stupid as this again, you're wrong! And second, you have a creature trying to take over you, one that comes in your dreams while you're drugged, in case you forgot, he might come in dreams but his physical…harm… is real."

Dean sank a little further into himself. "Yeah, I'm a monster, how could I forget?" He stated in a low tone.

"Dean, you're not a monster." Sam said sadly.

"Uh, you guys already got me unpossessed once, and it's coming back for me. It's going to follow me around my entire life until it gets whatever the hell it wants, or kills me, or whatever. So, yeah, I kinda am a monster, Sam. And if this was any other case, we would have killed me by now."

"You can't kill the monster by killing you. You actually have to be alive to kill it." Bobby interrupted.

Dean shot him a glance then looked back at Sam.

"Is that why you did this? Where you trying to kill yourself because you think you're a monster?" Sam's eyes filled with tears as he questioned Dean.

Dean just shrugged his shoulders, confusion was still running rapid in his mind.

"Dean, you're not a monster!" Sam exclaimed. "And, I think Bobby and I have figured out how to kill this thing. It comes to you when you're not just asleep, but intoxicated or drugged, or something to make your mind not strong enough to fight it off. Well, that's the thing, when it comes it comes in real life, not in your dream."

Dean sighed, he had already heard this once, he needed to hear something new. "And, what it does is real not imaginary, which we found out when it came and raped you. So, in order to kill it, you have to get yourself in the mindset, drugged or whatever, and fight past the effects of that and fight it, kill it. It takes a silver knife to the base of the skull, severing the spinal cord, basically."

Dean flung his hands up, palms out. Okay, that was something new! "Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sammy, slow down! Still a bit drugged and confused here, makes it kinda hard to follow along. I'm not even completely sure what the hell happened."

"Good!" Sam said with lack of sympathy. "Practice time! Get your ass up."

"What?"

"Yeah, come on it's time to spar."

Dean looked at his dad, expecting him to tell Sam he was as crazy as Dean thought he was. His expression changed to shock when his dad replied.

"Sounds like a good idea! Come on, Dean, get at it."

"Hey! I just died, remember?"

"Yeah, and you think that thing gives a shit about that?" John questioned as he pulled the covers from Dean's body. "Injured, drugged, whatever is going to slow you down, it's going to take advantage of. You have to be prepared, be ready for the worst."

Dean looked around the room shocked and confused.

"Come on, jerk." Sam said, grabbing Dean's arm and pulling him to a seated position.

Dean gasped with the sudden pain that ran through him, but his dad had given him an order and he had to obey.

He weakly stood from the couch, Sam pushed him back down, giving him a hard shove.

"What the hell! What was that for?"

"Cause you're weak, bro. Come on, what's the matter? You can't even stand up? You too damn weak to stand on your own."

"Man fuck off!" Dean shot back at Sam, trying to stand again, only to be shoved back down by his brother. "Dude!"

"What?" Sam stood in front of him, hands on his hips, eyebrows raised. "I'm not even trying, you're just too much of a pansy! I thought Dean Winchester was tough? You're not tough!"

"Dude, shut the hell up!" Again, he stood, this time making it to his feet and he swayed a little with the shove before falling back on the couch.

"Can't even stand up against your little brother?" Sam continued to taunt him.

This time, Dean didn't say a word, he shoved himself off the couch with as much force as he could, slamming his shoulder into Sam's chest and knocking them both to the ground. Dean landed with a grunt of pain. He rolled off his brother and wrapped his arms around his body, trying to ease the pain of the lacerations.

Sam didn't give him a break. He pushed Dean onto his back and straddled him, pushing his hands into Dean's cut up chest.

Dean cried out in pain, grabbing Sam's hands, trying to pull them off him.

"Not fair man! Get the hell off me!" Dean yelled, but Sam remained still and continued to push on his chest.

"You think that thing is going to take it easy on you because it causes a little pain?"

"Seriously! Get the hell off me!"

"Make me!"

"Sam! I'm warning you, get off!"

"Make me!"

A wave of panic set over Dean, he tightened his grip on Sam's wrists, and pulled them out to the sides, causing Sam to lose his balance and land with his chest against Dean's.

"Get off!" Dean started to panic. "NO! Get off of me!"

Sam closed his eyes, knowing the distress he was putting his brother through, but he was only showing him what he needed to do, and the creature wasn't going to take it easy on him.

"Get off. Get off. Get off." Dean started pleading.

"You think that thing is going to get off of you just because you ask?" Sam yanked one of his hands from Dean's and reached behind him, grabbing a hold of Dean's groan. "You're lucky I'm not raping you right now. You know that's what the creature would be doing. Taking your clothes off, putting himself inside you."

"STOP IT!" Dean shouted! "Get off! Stop. Please. Sam. Stop." Panic was filling every inch of his body, but Sam didn't budge. Dean tightened the grip he still had on Sam's other hand. He pushed against Sam's shoulder with his other free hand. "Get off. Get off. Get off. Get off." Dean repeated over and over in panic.

Sam tightened his grip on Dean's groan. "What are you going to do about it? Huh? How you going to make me stop? You know what it takes to kill it, to make it stop. You want me to stop? Want me to get off you? You know what you've got to do."

Dean's breathing was labored, his body shook with fear. His attempted words were shaking and broken. He pushed at his brother, unable to think, unable to fight, unable to function.

"What you gonna do?" Sam asked. "You gonna let me keep grabbing you? You gonna let me rape you? Do you like it? Is that it? You like it?"

"Fuck you!" Dean shouted as he reached beside him where his Dad had sat a play knife and jabbed it into the back of Sam's head, right at the base of his skull, exactly where Sam said it needed to go.

Sam instantly released Dean and rolled to a seated position beside him. He grabbed Dean in his arms and held him. His body was shaking uncontrollably. His breathing labored. Tears poured down his face.

"Shhhh, shhhh, it's okay, Dean. It's okay. I'm sorry. I had to man, I had to. I had to show you, you have to know what you're going to be up against. You did good, bro. You did good." Sam tried to sooth him as he held him tightly.

John knelt beside the boys, rubbing Dean's back. "It's okay, son. It's okay. It was just training. It was just training. It's okay."

Dean pulled away from his dad and Sam, wiped a shaky hand down his face to dry the tears that were still falling. His breath was just as shaky as his voice. "Cccan… can… can we stop?" Dean seemed to be gasping for breath between each word, trying to calm himself without much success.

"Yeah, son, yeah, we can stop now." John regretted what they had to do, but if Dean was going to be able to face this thing and kill it, then he had to do it alone, with no prompting from anyone. Which meant, he was going to need to fight through the fear and pain.

Dean closed his eyes with relief, his breathing still rapid. He pushed himself off the floor, smacking away Bobby's hand that he offered to help Dean stand. He pressed a hand to each side of his head, trying to stop the rapid thoughts running through it.

At first, he seemed confused, like he didn't know where he was, or what he was doing, or possibly what the hell he was supposed to do after that. He looked around the room, turning his body in a circle as he looked.

"Dean, come on, sit down." John said softly as he placed a hand on Dean's shoulder and guided him to the couch.

Dean dropped his arms as he sat under the pressure of his dad's hand.

"You okay?" Sam questioned, sitting beside him.

Dean just looked over at his brother, confusion set on his face.

"Hey, Dean, why don't you lay down and sleep a little, you'll feel better when you wake." John suggested.

Dean looked at his dad with the same confused expression he had given Sam.

John knelt on the floor beside the couch, pulling Dean to a laying position. "You're still drugged, you can't be alone, not yet, you're not ready. So, you gotta sleep here. We aren't going to leave you, okay? You're going to be fine. You'll be safe."

Dean closed his eyes, his head spinning, confusion and exhaustion setting in. He didn't speak, he didn't respond to anything else. He allowed the uncertainty of the darkness surround him. He wanted that bliss back, the one he had felt when he was dead. He searched for it in the newly found darkness in his mind.


	46. Chapter 46

**CHAPTER 46**

Dean's mind sifted through the memories that flooded him like flashes of lightening.

He was 4 years old, holding Sammy, wrapped in a bundle of blankets, outside of their house, watching the flames blow through the window. It was a chilly winter night, but not too cold. He was scared but knew he had to protect Sammy. He even told him it would be okay that he had him and everything would be okay.

He cheered when Sammy had learned how to roll over and crawl across the floor. He loved how he always crawled into his arms. Dad wasn't around much to see it, but Dean was always there, he still had him, everything was still going to be okay.

He held Sammy's hand as he helped him learn to walk. He fell down a few times, but Dean was always there to pick him up and encourage him to try again. He had him, no matter how many times he fell down, he would be right there to catch him when he fell. He would always be there, he would always have his little brother. Everything would be okay.

He held Sammy in the bed they shared, protecting him from the nightmare that caused his little body to tremble and shake. He never knew exactly what scared him so much while he slept, he figured it had something to do with the fire when he was a baby. But, when he learned about the monsters Dean could understand it more. He had his own nightmares about them, even though he would never tell anyone. He had to be strong for Sammy. He had to hold him and comfort him until he was able to calm down and go back to sleep. It didn't matter what Dean was feeling or thinking. He was there, holding his little brother, keeping him safe, making sure he knew everything was going to be okay.

The sweetest little giggles and cutest little smiles that came from his little brother. That was always Dean's reminder. He was so busy making sure his dad and brother knew everything would be okay, he was too busy holding them up, that sometimes he would forget about himself. Sam's little giggles and smiles was always the way Dean was held and reminded everything would be okay.

The first time Sam stayed with Uncle Bobby alone, the tears that filled his eyes, his bottom lip quivered. He grabbed a hold of Dean's shirt and begged him not to leave without him. It broke Dean's heart, but, as much as he had been a father to his brother, their dad was the one who gave the commands and Dean knew better than to disobey or argue. He gave Sam a tight hug and reminded him it was only for a couple days and then he'd be back. He reminded him he was there for him even if they weren't together, and everything would be okay.

The pleasure in the simple things, like watching little Sammy eat. It always put a smile on Dean's face when he knew his brother had enough food to satisfy him. He took his growing brother to the local thrift store and bought him new clothes and shoes since he had outgrown all of his.

Their dad never even noticed when Sam had different clothes, it wasn't like he was the one who bought them anyhow. Sam's face would always light up when he got to buy clothes or go to a store and purchase things like a normal person. In those moments life was good and everything was okay.

One year, Dean even took him to the local Wal-Mart in the town they were staying and let Sam buy a brand-new book bag, some new socks and underwear, some paper and pencils of his own. He even let him pick out a completely brand-new outfit and shoes. Dean could only afford one new outfit, the rest would have to come from the thrift store, but Sam glowed like the sun that day.

He was so proud of his new items. He had always had hand me downs or used items but never a new book bag or clothes. There had been a couple times Dean had bought him new shoes, only because they didn't have his size at the used stores. Dean would always make sure, no matter what the cost, that Sammy was okay.

He would take his brother out for ice cream treats after school and listen to him ramble on about how much he liked school and things about his subjects and teachers. But, he never talked about the other kids in school. Dean knew his brother felt as uncomfortable around them as he did. But when they were with each other, in those precious moments, everything was okay.

He remembered this sinking sickening feeling when he had to leave his brother at night so he could make the money he needed to take care of him. The bile that would rise in him before he ever had his first customer. "It's just a job, this is for Sammy." He would tell himself. It was worth it, Sammy would always be worth it and in the end, everything would be okay.

He was worth the skid up knees as he knelt on the bare ground. He was worth the soreness they would cause by forcing themselves, stretching and tearing his gentle throat. He was worth the body fluids that were spilt in his mouth and on his face and body. He was worth the taste that would make him want to vomit, but he held it in because he wouldn't get paid if he didn't. He was worth the smell that the dirty old men always came with. He was worth the pulled hair and punches and kicks to his ribs and face. He was worth it when they held his hands behind his back, making him only be able to use his mouth for everything.

He was worth it when they started using their fingers on him, slipping them inside, telling him it would be okay, that he would like it. But he didn't. He didn't like any part of it. He was worth it when they had tried to rape him, more than one time, but he was too young, or small, or something happened to where they couldn't go all the way. It hurt like hell and filled him with so much pain, but he was worth it. Sam was worth it all and that made everything okay.

He flashed to the time he was making the money he needed and his dad came home, finding Sammy alone. He beat him for that one. Wasn't the first time Dad hit him, or the last. Not that it mattered, he didn't keep track of things like that. He didn't want to remember. It was easier to just forget all the painful memories. As long as he could forget then he could pretend everything was okay.

He tried so hard to protect Sammy. He had protected him all his life. He kept him from seeing things that would terrify him. He kept him safe from the things that would cause never ending nightmares. But, he couldn't protect him from seeing him beaten and raped. And, that was not okay, nothing about that would ever be okay.

He couldn't protect his little brother from his own nightmares. Lately, it had been Sam who was comforting Dean's fears. It was Sam who was there for Dean when a nightmare hit. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be that wasn't okay.

He wanted so badly for Sam to close his eyes, to not see. He tried not to scream, tried to hold the tears back, but he failed. He wasn't strong enough. His body may have been beaten and tortured but he still should have been able to keep control of his mind. How the hell did he end up in that place anyhow? How could he have allowed Sam to end up there. At least he was able to keep Sam from getting hurt. But the things Sam had to see, none of it was okay.

Then he flashed to the room he was held captive. He wanted Sam there more than anything. He knew it wasn't rational. That he didn't want Sam to see the things that were being done to him, but he longed for his comfort. Just knowing he was there would have been comfort enough, it would have made it better, it would have reminded him that it would all be okay.

He tried to fight them but was punished for his defiance. He was beaten and raped. Over and over and over. He was given beer and whiskey, laced with a cocktail of drugs. He remembered when the creature would come. It didn't feel the same as the other men. Sure, they hurt, but he had gotten used to them, in a way. They were all the same, some a little bigger, some smaller, but all the same. They would hit him and push him around, put him in the position of their liking. Some would go for the mouth, some for his bare ass.

But, they were all the same, except one. Dean wasn't sure which one it was. He was too drugged, too lost in a jumbled mess in his head. It was like each second was being played on repeat and it blended into the next second in his life. But, the pain was surreal. The first time was the worse, but it never seemed to get easier, not with him.

He was larger than anyone else, even larger than the enhanced porn stars Dean had seen. There was something different about it too. He could feel it swelling, not just getting hard, but swelling. And, instead of the normal tip it was like a small round ball was at the end of it. It would swell too, leaving Dean screaming in pain.

He could feel himself being torn on the inside, stretched beyond his limits. Dean would grit his teeth, lock his jaw, grasp onto the edges of the mattress, but he still couldn't stop the screams, or the tears that came with the pain. When he felt that, the only thing that would have made it okay is if the pain killed him, ended it all.

That pain. He had felt that pain at Bobby's too. The night he woke to find him on top of him. That time was worse. He didn't get a chance to finish what he had come for. He pulled out of Dean, still swollen and huge. He ripped everything as he pulled out and disappeared as Sam woke. The pain left him lost in his own head. He tried to put the pieces together, tried to keep himself under control. But, he had failed at that too.

He remembered the feeling, it was almost like a burning sensation, a mixture between what burning chemicals and boiling water would feel like. It was like a boiling chemical. It filled his body when the creature finished. It would fill his gut and trickle into his veins, filling the rest of his body with the burning hot liquid.

It would cool and quit burning, or at least, Dean figured it did. Either that or he just got used to it. How the hell could anyone get used to anything like that? What if it got Sammy?

Oh, god, he couldn't let it get Sammy. He had to stop it before it did. The pain, the burning, the filth he would feel afterwards. His worthlessness. He had been reduced to this. But, he still had to keep his brother safe. 'Protect your little brother, protect Sammy'.

Sammy… oh god… where's Sammy? Dean searched his brain but couldn't find his brother. He didn't know where he was, if he was safe or not. He started screaming in his head, screaming for his brother.

Dean shot up. "SAMMY!"

"Shhhh it's okay, Dean." John was there, sitting beside his son, for some reason he couldn't seem to pull himself away from his oldest son. "Sam's in the kitchen, helping Bobby with dinner."

Dean's panic seemed to pick up, he searched his eyes around the room, searching for his brother.

Sam heard his brother call for him and came into the room. "Hey, Dean, it's okay, I'm right here." He sat on the edge of the couch beside Dean's legs. And, for a moment everything was okay again.

"Sammy?" Dean sounded broken and grabbed fists full of Sam's shirt. "You okay?"

"Yeah, Dean, I'm fine. Calm down man, I'm fine, nothing has happened to me."

Dean released a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on his brother's shirt.

"You okay?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah, yeah, I… I don't know what's…" His eyes searched the room for the threat he was feeling. "I…" He looked at his brother, his forehead crinkled in confusion, his eyes looked lost.

"It's okay, Dean. It's okay. You just had a bad dream. You're safe, I'm here, Dad's here, Bobby's here. You're okay."

"Wwwha… I… I don't know…." Dean looked scared and unsure of anything but his brother.

"Dean, it's okay. I'm right here. It's okay."

"You… you hurt me." It was really more of a question than a statement. Dean was trying to get his thoughts in order.

"It… uh… it was more like training. Remember, you have to be able to kill the thing trying to get you?"

"I killed you?"

"No, it was a fake knife."

Dean nodded. "Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"I can't do this."

"Like hell you can't! You can and you will!"

"I'm not strong enough."

"Dude, you're the strongest person I know, you've got this. You just need to get your head cleared a little."

"Wwwhy… why did you save me?"

"Because you're my big brother, and there's no way in hell I could go through this life without you!"

Dean just shook his head and laid back down. He placed his hands on his head. It felt like everything had started spinning. "I'm not worth it." Dean said quietly, barely loud enough for anyone but himself to hear.

"Balls!" Bobby exclaimed from somewhere nearby.

Dean cracked open an eye but didn't see him. He didn't seem to have the energy to look around the room to find him so he just closed his eye again.

"Ain't none of us here stupid. If you weren't worth it we sure as hell wouldn't be wasting our time on trying to fix you." Bobby added as he walked into Dean's line of sight.

"The fact I'm broke enough you need to fix me should tell you I'm not worth it." Dean argued, his eyes still closed and his arm drooped over his forehead.

Bobby felt the frustration build in him. He grabbed the front of Dean's shirt, pulling his upper body slightly off the couch. Dean's eyes shot open, his arm automatically moved to Bobby's shoulder to push him away.

"You listen here boy! You may be a little cracked, but you ain't broken! There's still enough of you in that noggin of yours to be worth saving. I've spent years huntin' monsters and you sure as hell ain't one of them! You got that?"

Dean was stunned, his eyes wide, his mouth moved as if to say something but no words came out. He swallowed hard, not moving his eyes from the man who was holding onto him. His hand that was on Bobby's shoulder started to tremble. He settled with nodding his head since he couldn't seem to speak and all he wanted at that moment was for Bobby to let go of him. As Bobby spoke he shook Dean just slightly, but it was enough for panic to start setting in.

Dean's breathing became heavy. "Bobby please." Dean pushed the words out through the tears that were building. He grabbed a fist full of Bobby's shirt sleeve in desperation.

"When the hell you gonna realize ain't none of us going to hurt you?" Bobby questioned. "We all care about you, obviously more than you care about yourself, since we had to undo what you did to yourself." Bobby's aggravation was evident in his tone.

Dean's panic rose, his breathing remained heavy, he held onto the fist full of shirt in his hand, but he didn't move, he didn't fight against Bobby, and he didn't reply. Truth was, there was nothing he could say at that moment to make any of this okay.

He couldn't change what had already happened. He couldn't change what he had done. He couldn't change the regrets and heartache he felt.

"When you gonna realize what the hell you're worth?" Bobby said with irritation evident as he slammed Dean back down on the couch, turning from him, pulling the fist full of shirt from his grip.

Bobby spun back around to face Dean. "Tell me one thing." He said, moving his way to where he was standing over Dean. Dean rose from his laying position, he had pushed his back up the arm of the couch, trying to position himself in a less vulnerable way.

"You wanna fight this damn thing?" Bobby asked, his voice full of stern seriousness. "Cause if you don't, I ain't gonna waste no damn time helping someone who's just going to go kill themselves the moment it gets a little rough."

Dean looked shocked. His head spun. His stomach curled around itself, building bile in the back of his throat. He swallowed hard, pushing the feeling down. He blinked a few rapid blinks, staring at the man in front of him.

"Bobby." John said quietly, trying to get his friend to back off his son. Dean had been through enough and he didn't want to make things worse.

"John, the kid ain't no damn baby, hell, he never was! It's time we stop acting like he is. It's time we stop walking on egg shells around him. Yeah, he was beaten and tortured. Yeah, he was raped repeatedly. He's been possessed by something that's still trying to get inside him, both literally and figuratively speaking. The damn stunt he pulled, he's lucky the damn thing didn't come back and rape him again."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed hard before opening them again.

"He needs to make up his damn mind on what the hell he wants to do. Either he lives or he dies. If he dies, I ain't gonna stick around and watch it happen! But, I will do everything I can to save him if that's what he wants."

Dean's jaw had started trembling. His eyes darted around the room. His mind spun. The bile that was building was threatening to spill out of his throat. He couldn't handle this. It was too much. He couldn't think straight. He couldn't process what was being said, the meaning behind everything. He was still confused.

He needed to get away, to escape. He didn't know why, or where he needed to go. He only knew he had to go somewhere. Anywhere but where he was at. He struggled to breathe, struggled to keep the vomit in its place.

He fought, absentminded, against his brother. He tried to get up, tried to get away. But, Sam stopped him, pushed against him as Dean tried to push away. The only thing Dean knew was that something was stopping him from getting away. Something was holding him in a place he didn't want to be.

He didn't want to do this anymore. He couldn't do this anymore. He knew what was going to happen. He knew he was going to get hurt. He wasn't sure how, not yet, because he wasn't sure exactly what was going on. He was fighting against them, which meant punishment. Painful punishment. He would get beaten, or burned, kicked, hit, whipped, there was no limit to what could happen. He hated the punishments, but something inside him wouldn't allow him to just lay down and give up.

He hated the chains the most. They would hold him down and whip him with a chain, sending the shock waves of pain through his body. He couldn't help but cry out in pain when they did that. There was even one time, they heated the chain, pulled it from the heat stove, in front of him. It was burning red, he screamed as the tears flowed out of his eyes when it struck down on his back.

That was the worst, but no matter what they did it hurt. He was sure that was what was going to happen. He couldn't handle any more of it. He tried to fight against the forces that were holding him back.

If he wasn't going to be punished then that meant he was going to be raped. That wasn't any better, he wasn't sure which was worse. He may have gotten used to the men easier than he got used to the punishments, but it didn't make it any easier in his head.

He kept fighting. Kept trying to fight against the forces that were keeping him from having control over his own body. He fought against the forces that were holding him somewhere he didn't want to be.

He tried to fight, he tried so hard, but he wasn't strong enough. He was never going to be strong enough. Hands everywhere. Hands holding him, pushing at him, pulling him. Arms, wrapping around him. Arms and hands and control and pain and confusion and he couldn't do this. This was not okay, nothing was okay. He was broken, too broken to matter anymore.


	47. Chapter 47

**CHAPTER 47**

"Dean! Calm down, man, come on, calm down. It's okay." Sam tried desperately to get Dean to calm down.

Bobby had released some of the frustration and tension he had been holding in and it seemed to send Dean into a panic attack. He fought against them, trying to get up, to leave. The problem was, they didn't know where he planned on going, or what he planned on doing. Actually, they didn't figure he had any plan at all, he would just react without thinking.

They had already been down that road and couldn't allow Dean to hurt himself any more. He had carved into his own body, took enough pills to stop his heart. He had put a fist through a mirror and starved himself. And, that was just some of the things they knew about. He did a damn good job at beating himself up mentally and keeping it hidden from everyone.

They couldn't chance him doing something he may not survive, or worse, they couldn't chance him being alone and the dream creature getting a hold of him.

Sam tried to keep his brother in his spot on the couch, but Dean just pushed back as hard as Sam was pushing him. When Dean gave up trying to push against Sam and started scooting himself backwards, away from Sam and over the edge of the couch, John stood behind him, stopping him from escaping. He held a firm grip on Dean. He started swinging his arms to hit whoever he could come into contact with. The vomit he had tried so hard to hold back had spilled out and covered his chest and part of Sam.

Bobby grabbed Dean's arms, keeping him from hurting anyone, or himself. He noticed he had started clawing at himself, like somehow, he could get away if he could get out of his own body. The struggle continued until Dean started losing strength.

Fear was evident, as evident as the confusion. They all knew what was happening in Dean's head. The struggle against his will to escape his surroundings set off a flashback. They knew he didn't know who he was fighting against, or why. Not anymore. He was back in the place he had been found. Back with the people who forced him into submission.

It really wasn't much different than what they were doing to him now. The difference was there wasn't going to be pain at the end, and their intentions were different. They needed Dean to be submissive for his own safety, not because they needed that in order to hurt him. But, Dean didn't seem to know the difference right now.

He had exhausted himself. It didn't seem to take too long for him to fall into exhaustion these days. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling their bodies against each other. He held onto his brother tightly, allowing him to tremble in his arms as he tried to push away from him.

"Shhhh, Dean, it's okay. I got you, Dean. It's okay. Calm down! You're safe. You're with me and Dad and Bobby. You're safe, it's okay." Sam tried to calm his brother, to talk him out of his panic.

He knew it wouldn't last forever, eventually Dean would fall asleep with exhaustion, but Sam needed him to be able to be talked out of a panic attack. He needed Dean to gain control of himself if he was going to fight and kill the creature who wanted him.

"Dean, it's Sam. Do you hear me? It's Sam, I need you to calm down and come back to me. Come on, I know you can do it. You're the strongest person I know, remember? You have the strength you need to do this, you just gotta allow yourself to do what you know you can."

Sam continued to hold Dean tight. He continued to try to bring his brother back to him. The trembling seemed to calm as Sam spoke. He seemed to relax in his brother's arms, stopped pushing so hard against him, stopped fighting the way he was.

Through Sam's words Dean's breathing slowed. He grabbed onto his brother's shirt, not out of fear, but seeking out the comfort he offered.

"You back with me now?" Sam asked as he held Dean tight against him.

Dean mumbled, unable to speak yet. He buried his head into his brother's chest. He gave himself a moment to try to come back to his brother. To find himself, to figure out where he had left to.

"Ssssammmy?"

"Yeah, Dean, yeah, I'm right here. It's okay, I need you to calm down and come back to me."

"Sssssaa… I nnnneeeed… I need to gggett a… awwway."

"No, Dean you can't. You can't be alone right now."

"Ggggottta gooooo."

"Okay. Dean, okay. Finish coming back to me, and we'll go to a different room, just the two of us. We'll get away from everyone else. Okay?"

Dean nodded his head. After a few more moments he was able to finally form a reply. "Yeah, okay."

"You okay, now?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm here. I'm okay."

"Okay. Come on, lets get the hell out of here." Sam said, giving a strong pat to Dean's back.

He helped Dean stand and helped him upstairs to their room. Dean tensed up as they entered the room. Fear started filling him, Sam noticed and placed his hand on his brother's back.

"Hey, it's okay." Sam reassured him. "We need to get you some clothes so we can get you cleaned up. You and me both." He motioned to his own shirt. Not only had Dean vomited on him but he had also pressed against his body, leaving what was on his own chest against Sam's as well.

"Yeah." Dean sounded unsure about things. "Yeah." He repeated a little clearer on what his purpose for that moment was. He sat at the edge of his bed, rested his elbows on his knees and placed his face in his hands.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam asked.

Dean just shook his head. "No, no I'm not okay. I'm far from being okay, Sammy. I… I don't even know what the hell is going on anymore. I don't know what I'm doing. I can't convince myself this is even worth it."

"Okay, well how about we get ourselves cleaned up and fresh clothes on, then we'll worry about what comes next."

Dean nodded, taking actions without thinking. He picked up his clothes and headed to the shower. After he showered Sam showered then met his brother back in their room.

Those few minutes completely alone was like bliss to Dean. No one was leaving him by himself, no one except his brother. Sam had faith in him that Dean knew he shouldn't have. Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed, facing toward the door. There was something about his bed, something that wouldn't allow him to sit there.

Dean figured it was the fact he had been violated in that bed, attacked in his sleep. As he stared at the bed he remembered the face he woke to. The face that stared down at him while it raped him in his own bed, in the one place that was supposed to be safe.

Nothing was supposed to get into Uncle Bobby's. This was supposed to be his safe place. The one place he could relax and be himself. That's the way it always was. Since he was little he found comfort in Bobby's house. Sometimes, it was just the glory that he felt surrounded by the cars in his yard, sometimes it was the fact he was being taken care of. Not just Sam, but he was being taken care of as well.

But now that safety and comfort had been violated, it had been taken from him. He needed it back. That aching in the pit of his stomach told him he needed to get it back. He needed to be safe again, he needed the comfort in his life, or what little comfort he had in his life. He never felt like he was worth much, never saw himself anything but an ordinary guy. He was no one special. But, he was Dean Winchester, ordinary or not, that's who he was and that's who he needed to be again.

"Hey." Sam said softly as he walked into the room and sat on the edge of Dean's bed.

Dean slowly looked up at him, watching him sit, waiting to see if anything would happen to him when he sat on the bed that had stolen his security.

"Feeling any better?" Sam questioned.

Dean continued to just watch his little brother. He felt so lost. He didn't know if he was feeling better or not. He wasn't sure how he was feeling before. He realized he never really knew how he felt. He always pushed the feelings away, he never concentrated on them when they snuck up. But, now he was being forced to face them.

Was he feeling better? Better than what? Better than when he was being beaten and raped? Better than when he was having flashbacks and didn't know where he was at? Better than when he had tried to kill himself? He really wasn't sure if that was he intention. He wasn't sure if he really wanted to die, but, he also wasn't sure if he was glad they had saved him, brought him back to life. He just wanted the pain to end. He wanted the heartache and misery to end.

Without speaking a word, he pushed himself to a standing position and walked out of the room. Sam watched him with his eyes but chose not to follow him when he saw he was heading for the stairs. Bobby and John were both downstairs, they would be able to keep an eye on him.

Sam laid back on the bed where he sat. Life had been exhausting. More exhausting than he could have possibly imagined. Sure, he'd been exhausted before, being on long hunts and never seeming to stop, but this was a different kind of exhaustion. This was mental. He was mentally worn down. Before he knew it, his eyes had closed and he had fallen into a blissful sleep.

Dean walked downstairs. John sat on the couch reading something in a book. Bobby had gone to his desk and was shuffling through some papers. Dean stood at the bottom of the stairs looking over the normal activity of the home. He looked down at himself. He was wearing sweatpants, a t-shirt, and hoodie. Instead of his usual boots he had been wearing more comfortable sneakers when going outside.

Everything around him seemed to be normal. But, he wasn't. He wasn't even dressed normal. He caught John's eye as he walked past him and toward Bobby.

John didn't say anything, he just watched.

Dean sat in a chair across from the desk where Bobby sat. He balanced his elbows on his knees, and his chin in the palm of his hands. He watched Bobby for a moment, he had glanced up at Dean, then back at the papers on his desk, he finished shuffling through them before laying them to the side and giving Dean his full attention.

Dean was used to that with Bobby. He had always given Dean his attention. No one else ever did. Sure, lately they had, but that's only because they know what a screw up he's been in his life. They think he's gone crazy, or worse. They think he can't manage on his own.

He figured they were right. The time he tried to walk away, tried to escape the walls that were closing in on him, he found himself in another situation, beaten and raped, but worse than that he had returned with an attachment. He felt like he couldn't do anything right, he couldn't even walk away right.

His eyes started filling with unshed tears as the thoughts ran through his head. Bobby cleared his throat before speaking.

"How about you and me go take a walk through the junk yard?"

Dean nodded his head, still not speaking a word.

Bobby stood and patted Dean on the back of his shoulder, giving him the cue to follow him. They walked outside, and down the steps. They walked silently at first. Bobby let what ever was running around in Dean's head settle. The boy always seemed to calm down when surrounded by the cars.

After a few minutes, Bobby spoke again. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Dean just shrugged, twisting his mouth and arching an eye brow. There was so much going on in there and he wasn't sure how to straighten it all out.

Bobby stopped walking and leaned against one of the cars. "How about you try to figure it out?"

"How?" Dean leaned against a car near Bobby.

"Just start talking. Even if it don't make sense. It's just you and me out here, boy. Tell me what's going on in that noggin."

Dean shrugged again. "I… I don't understand why you guys saved me."

"What makes you say that?"

"I mean, I'm not worth the worry. I'm not worth the heartache and stress and pain I've put everyone through."

"And, what about all the pain and heartache you've been put through?"

"I don't know. Maybe I deserved it?"

"What in tarnation would make you think that?"

Dean drew his lips between his teeth as he gave another double shoulder shrug, shoving his hands in the pockets of his sweats. "The stuff that Sam had looked up, it said that was normal to feel like you deserve things when you've gone through… stuff… but, I don't know, normal or not, it sucks to feel that way."

"What do you think you've done to deserve to be hurt like you have?"

"I've not always followed orders like I should. I've let so many people down. Dad, Sam, You. I've tried to save people, I've tried to save everyone I could, but I've failed at that too. I've let people die, and I know I could have stopped it from happening if I had just been a little faster or tried a little harder. I haven't always done my best at everything."

Dean sniffled back the tears that were forming. "I've tried, but I haven't always been my best, I haven't always done my best. I've disobeyed Dad, a lot, some… most… he doesn't know about, but I do."

"Hold up. How you figure you've disappointed me?"

"I haven't exactly turned out to be this great person you expected me to be. I'm not who anyone thought I was. I haven't done anything to make you proud, in fact I've done just the opposite, especially right now. I'm too weak, too broken."

"Boy, I never expected you to be perfect. I am proud of you, always have been, always will be. Nothing will change that, you hear me? Right now, you're going through a rough time. And, honestly, if anyone has failed anyone, I've failed you. The one time I needed to be there for you, to help you, to hold you up, and I let my own frustrations get in the way."

"It's okay. I don't expect you to be perfect either. Besides, your frustrations and emotions are more important than mine."

"Boy! Ain't no one's feelings more important than anyone else's. This has been hard on all of us. It's been right down exhausting, and I think we are all starting to feel the effects of it. But, I know I've been allowing my own aggravations to cloud my eyes. I haven't stopped to make sure you're okay. I mean, really make sure you're okay. Which, obviously, after that little stunt you pulled, you're not."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

"Balls! Boy, you have nothing to be sorry for. I'm the one who should be apologizing to you. I should have been more thoughtful of your feelings through all of this. If it's this hard on me, then I can only imagine how hard it has been on you."

Dean shrugged. He looked at the ground and shuffled his feet in the dirt and gravel. "I'm used to it."

"Yeah, I know. Your dad and I ain't ever seen eye to eye when it came to you boys, but especially you. That ain't no damn secret, you already know that."

Dean nodded.

"You remember that time, you were what, nine maybe ten, and your dad dropped you off at my house to do some training, but instead I took you to the park to throw some football and be a damn kid for once?"

Dean smiled and looked up at Bobby. "Yeah, Dad was so pissed at you, but you stood your ground. I was sure I was going to have a harsh punishment for that one, but it wasn't that bad."

"Wait, you got punished for that?"

"Yeah, so?"

"So, it wasn't your fault. I'm the one who made the decision. What the hell did he do to you?"

"Just some extra training to make up for what I was supposed to do, it's no big deal. It was worth it." Dean said that last part with a smile on his face. "You know, I've always taken Sam out for ice cream and shakes… you know, things like that, when we got out of school and stayed somewhere that had a decent place to go. But, when you took me out that one time, and we sat in the soda shop and I had that big bowl of ice cream covered in sprinkles and chocolate syrup, that was the first, and only, time anyone had taken me out like that."

"If I would have known, I would have taken you more."

"I know you would have." Dean looked back at the ground. "That's why I didn't tell you because I didn't want anything given to me out of pity."

"Yeah well, I can't help but pity the life you've lived. But, I don't pity you. You're one strong son of a bitch. You're able to conquer more than I've ever seen anyone conquer. You're one hell of a hunter and still manage to keep an innocence about you. Plus, you have a heart of gold. Don't get any better than that. There ain't nothing about you to pity."

Dean gave a sideways smile. A speechless way of saying 'thanks' but that he couldn't agree, couldn't manage to see what Bobby saw.

"Trust me boy, I've seen a lot in my life, and you are the strongest person I've met. You've managed to grow up to become an adult, not many hunter's kids can say that. And, you managed to keep your brother safe enough that he's a grown adult too. Hell, he's even a college kid."

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, he is, and a geeky one at that."

Bobby chuckled back. "He's definitely a one of a kind."

"Thank goodness, I don't think anyone could handle two of him." Dean laughed. It was a true laugh. Bobby had reminded him of happy thoughts, happy memories.

"Yeah." Bobby chuckled. He moved to where he was standing beside Dean, he placed a hand on his shoulder. "So, how you doing, kid? I mean besides your little stunt you pulled, you hanging in there?"

"Yeah, I guess… I mean… I didn't really… I wasn't really thinking, you know. I don't think I really meant to kill myself."

"You just wanted the pain to stop?"

"Yeah."

"I get it."

"Dad nor Sam do."

"Yeah, I know, kid."

"I wish they did. I wish they got me, I wish they could understand… more like you do… you've always understood me better than anyone."

"Yeah, well, that's because you remind me so much of myself when I was younger. Our lives weren't exactly the same, but I know how it feels to have a father that's around but absent, and how much it takes from you to protect those you love, to keep them from the dangers that lurk in your own home."

"Bobby."

"Yeah?"

"So… there's this thing, I've kinda been wondering… but, I can't ask Dad, or Sam. They already look at me like I have two heads right now."

"So, spit it out, what is it?"

"Do… is… does all of this… like you know… the stuff I did when I was younger and now all the stuff recently, does it make me… you know… gay?"

Bobby chuckled. "Hell no, boy, you're as straight as a damn arrow."

"What if… what if I got used to it… you know like it didn't turn my stomach anymore, didn't hurt anymore… I just… I got used to it and just let them do what they wanted. And, when I was younger, I mean, I just did it, you know. I didn't even hesitate. Sure, it would make me feel sick after, but…. I don't know."

"Dean, I want you to listen to me. When you were younger you had to do what you had to do. You had to keep you and Sammy fed and clothed. You had to grow up way too damn fast. It didn't matter if you hesitated or not, the fact is, you willingly did things to take care of what you needed. At the time, that was the only way you could supply what was needed."

Dean had looked down at his shuffling feet, Bobby gently placed his hand under Dean's chin and raised his head so he was looking at him again.

"Recently, you didn't have a choice either. While you and Sam were taken, you did what you had to in order to keep your brother safe. You sacrificed yourself for him. If you would have fought then you risked the chance of your brother getting hurt, and that wasn't a risk you were willing to take. As far as the most recent events."

Dean tried to lower his head again but Bobby kept his hand firmly under his chin. He needed Dean to hear him, to really hear him, and to understand.

"You did what you needed to take care of yourself. You walked out on everyone, you needed to get away and clear your head. I understand that. But, you were tricked, probably by the creature who you're still fighting off. You were put in a position where if you fought you got hurt worse. So, naturally, in order to survive, you had no choice but to submit, to allow anyone to do whatever the hell they wanted. After so many times, your body just accepts it. That's just the way it is. That's perfectly normal. Don't mean you had to like it or want it."

He pulled Dean's head so they were looking into each other's eyes. "Besides, I need you to understand, even if you were gay, or even bisexual, I would still love you the same. None of that mumbo jumbo means anything to me." Bobby gently pointed his finger into Dean's chest, over his heart. "It's what's in here that counts. And, what's in there makes you special in my eyes. You got that?"

The tears started to drip from Dean's eyes. He nodded ever so slightly and Bobby embraced him in his arms, allowing him to release the tension and emotions that had been building inside.

"It's going to be okay. It might not seem like it right now, but it will be, I promise. If it's the last thing I do I'll save you from this. I'll help you get better." The tears slipped out of Bobby's eyes as he silently shed tears while embracing the man he always thought of as his own son.


	48. Chapter 48

**CHAPTER 48**

Dean cried into Bobby's shoulder, releasing the pressure that had been building inside of him.

"Bobby?" Dean pushed himself away, trying to gather himself again.

"Yeah?"

"I don't wanna go back in there."

"Why not?"

"I can't keep facing them."

"Who? Your dad and brother?"

"Yeah. They just look at me like I'm a freak. Like there's something wrong with me. There's so much damn sympathy! I can't take it anymore. I'll be good, I promise, Bobby! I just need space to breathe. I need space to think."

Bobby sighed. "Okay. But, I need you to understand something. You, in no way at all, are allowed to sleep without someone taking a shift to watch you."

"Bobby!"

"Dean, this is not negotiable. We can't chance that thing hurting you again. We gotta make sure you're ready to fight it when you face it again. As long as someone is beside you, awake, then it won't be able to come. Not physically anyhow. You might dream about it. But it can't physically get inside of you."

"I…" the look on Dean's face was that of fear and pain. "I can't… not again… not now…"

"I know, Dean. That's why we have to make sure you're safe when you're sleeping. So, I'll talk to them give you your space, but if you're gonna sleep, you need to at least let me know, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

Bobby patted Dean on the back. "You feeling a little better now?"

Dean gave Bobby a half smile. "Yeah, thanks."

Bobby gave Dean a nod of the head. "You gonna be okay to stay out here by yourself?"

"Yyy…" Dean was going to tell Bobby yes, but then he started to think about it, really think about it. If it was his dad or Sam who asked he wouldn't have hesitated to say yes. He already looked weak enough in their eyes, but this was Bobby. "I… I don't know… I don't think so, not right now."

Bobby just nodded, pride weld up inside of him, pride for Dean's honesty. And, respect, not that either of those were new feelings he held for the man he considered a son, but they were just reinforced at that moment.

"You want me to stay out here with you longer? Or you wanna go back in?"

"You're gonna talk to them?"

"Yeah, but you gotta give me a little time."

"Yeah okay." Dean rubbed his hand down his face.

"You tired?"

Dean nodded, but the fear of sleep was more than evident in his eyes and in the expression on his face.

"Come on, I got some work to do in my office, why don't you take a nap in there while I do what I gotta get done."

The offer was accepted. Dean knew that was Bobby's way of telling him that he would make sure he was taken care of. It was his way of telling him to stick with him until he had a chance to talk to the others. He would give him his space, but if he was going to sleep, he needed to be watched. That was the best way they could do it without everyone else feeling sorry for him and giving him so much unwanted attention.

They made their way inside and Dean went immediately to Bobby's office area. Bobby announced to John that he had work to do and Dean was tired so he offered him to nap in his office so that he could watch him. He suggested John tried to get some sleep too. No one knew what that next moments would bring, and night was quickly approaching.

Bobby didn't manage to get much work done. Dean had laid a blanket and pillow on the floor in the corner of the room and fell asleep. Bobby sat and watched him. He didn't see a grown man who had been through hell and back, instead, he saw a little boy who was hiding inside a grown body.

The little boy so desperately wanted to be let out, to be allowed to live and flourish but was being chained down, not allowed to show himself. He saw a boy who had never had a childhood, one who lived, not for himself, but for his brother. He saw someone who found fear to be a normal thing. Someone who believed he deserved any type of punishment that was given to him. He didn't even question it, he just accepted it.

He wondered how many times John had beat that kid. He wondered how many times he had pushed him too hard in training. He wondered how the hell Dean managed to stand so strong through all of it.

He realized, at that moment, how overwhelming all of this must be on Dean. He only knew negative attention. He was never praised, never told he had done good, never acknowledged for the things he did do. Instead, he was only yelled at and punished for the things he wasn't perfect at.

If he wasn't able to do 50 pushups, instead of settling with the 40 he did, John would force him to do an extra 25. If he stumbled or collapsed with exhaustion during a run, he would get an extra mile added on. And these were just a few things he had witnessed himself.

He always seemed to stay into it with John over the way he treated Dean. He never pushed Sam the way he did Dean. In fact, it was Dean who had mostly trained Sam how to hunt. Dean was always gentler than John was with him. He would praise Sam for all the good he did. He would accept it if Sam was too tired to finish training and encourage him to push himself a little harder next time.

Bobby wondered where Dean got that sense of calmness and the gentle parenting from. He sure didn't get it from the parent who raised him. But, now, Dean was the center of attention. Everyone was trying so hard to encourage him to stay strong, to remind him how much good he has done, and how important he is.

He has been sheltered, catered to. Dean wasn't used to this type of behavior. He was always the one who treated others that way, he never got treated like this. Bobby realized how confusing it must be for him. He realized Dean probably wasn't sure how to even act around them or respond to their actions.

In a world where Dean always had control. He was always the one taking care of everyone else. He had now found himself out of control. His control had not only been taken away but it had been shattered to the point he needed someone to tell him what to do, what to say, how to act. Part of that he was sure was because he was so unsure about the action of those around him. He wasn't used to being taken care of.

As Bobby watched him sleep he had decided he needed to change the way he was taking care of him. He needed to stop treating him like he was going to shatter at any moment. Dean promised him he would be good. As much as that promise broke his heart, he was also thankful for it. Dean wasn't going to do anything stupid, at least not if he was in the right mind.

Dean shifted and jerked in his sleep, his face contoured with the memories and thoughts that shifted in his head while he slept. His body would react ever so slightly, doing things like grasping the blanket under him while his body tightened. His breathing increased to a panic then would slow back down.

Bobby wondered if this was normal behavior. He wondered if Dean always had nightmares while he slept. He wondered if they were as silent as they were now. Did Dean always silently suffer through life? Did the things Dean faced everyday of his life cause him that much suffering? Bobby wondered if Dean's life had caused him a type of PTSD. If the things he stood so strong against were his biggest fears.

Dean laid still, his breathing increased, he seemed to be breathing as fast as his body would allow. He laid on his back, stiff, grasping the blanket beneath him until his knuckles turned white. His eyes screwed shut as tight as they would go. His jaw locked. He was laying in the corner of the room and had managed to push his body against the wall behind him, pressing the top of his head hard against the wall.

Dean started groaning, as if he was in pain. His head tilted back like his closed eyes were trying to see the wall behind him. His back arched. The bottoms of his feet pressed hard against the floor. A long moan released with a painful cry as tears slipped from his sleeping eyes.

They ran down the outer corners of his closed eyes and trailed down his cheeks until they landed on the floor beneath him. With a deep gasping breath, in one quick movement Dean's eyes shot open and he pushed himself up the wall behind him into a seated position, pulling his legs up so his knees were against his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them, grasping onto each other. His body trembled and he seemed to stare out into the empty spaced in front of him.

"You okay?" Bobby asked, moving from his chair to sit on the floor beside him.

Dean's unfocused eyes shot over to quickly look at the person the voice came from then went back to the empty space in front of him. After a few moments he lowered his head, resting his forehead on his knees.

Bobby sat against the wall beside the hunched over body. He rubbed his hand up and down Dean's back as gentle as he could. "I'm right here." Bobby reminded him.

With the reminder, Dean started sobbing into his knees. His body shook and he wrapped himself tighter into himself.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm right here. It's just you and me, let it out."

Dean unwrapped himself and turning toward Bobby, throwing his arms tightly around his surrogate father, burying his face into his chest and sobbed. Bobby returned the gesture and wrapped his arms tightly around Dean.

Once he had started to calm down and the tears turned into sniffles Bobby loosened his grip on Dean. Once Dean had loosened his grip on Bobby, Bobby gently pulled Dean from him so he could look into his son's face.

"Bobby." Dean's voice sounded desperate. "What do I do to stop this?"

Bobby sighed. "It's not going to be easy."

"Neither is this."

"Yeah, I couldn't even imagine." Bobby sighed.

Dean leaned against the other side of the corner as Bobby started to speak.

"So, basically what we have figured out is, first you need to have something in your system to make you appear weak to the creature. Then it will come visit you, not only in your dreams but in the physical too. It may or may not be able to get inside of you. I haven't figured out how to prevent that from happening yet. It sounds simple enough, you take a silver blade and there's this place in the base of the skull that you stab the blade into and it basically cuts the spinal cord and brain activity."

Dean's mind started shifting, he struggled to pay attention to the words Bobby was saying.

"But, the son of a bitch is strong, and sneaky. He didn't survive all these years without being smart. So, even though it may sound easy, it's not going to be."

Dean nodded. "None of this is easy, Bobby."

"I know, son. I know. You just need to hang in there, you can do this. I just need to make sure you're ready to face it, and honestly, right now, I don't think you are."

"I'm not." Dean agreed. "I don't know how to make myself ready for something like that."

"I don't know either. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes, boy. I wouldn't want to face the things you have."

"I don't want to be in my own shoes."

"Yeah, I know, kid."

Dean rubbed at a pain that was twinging behind his temple. He closed his eyes to block out the images that wanted to flood his sight. He drew in a deep long breath and exhaled. He then opened his eyes again, preparing himself to continue with the day, to face the rest of the family.

"Is it that hard?" Bobby asked.

"What?"

"Being around your dad and Sam?"

Dean shrugged. "It's not easy, not right now. I have to mentally prepare myself, make sure I'm calm before I go around them. I mean, don't get me wrong, it's really nothing new, nothing different than normal."

"It's that hard to face your family, everyday? Even before all of this?"

"Bobby, you know how my family is. You know how Dad is. It's never been easy. But, the way I see it is I can either suck it up and face life head on or I can curl in some corner somewhere, feel sorry for myself, and let life defeat me. I'm not exactly they type to just let life destroy me, you know?"

"Yeah, that's what makes you so damn strong!"

Dean gave Bobby a half smile. "Thanks."

"You got this, kid. You just gotta go easy on yourself. It will keep returning, no matter what. If you fail, you'll have another chance. But, if you try it'll catch onto what you're doing and make it that much harder the next time."

Dean nodded. "I… I can't, Bobby. I have to succeed the first time. I can't handle it coming back, again. I… I don't know how to willingly, knowingly, prepare myself for the pain it's going to bring."

"You'll figure it out." Bobby gave Dean a pat on the shoulder, holding his hand there just a little longer, giving him a gentle squeeze. That was his way of telling Dean he believed in him, that he could do this.

Dean pushed himself off the floor and sighed when he looked at the door leading out of the room. He wanted to stay here. He wanted to stay in the comfort he had found in Bobby, in being alone. He wanted the safety he knew he had, the love that radiated around him. It was unfamiliar territory but one that felt right.

He wasn't used to the honesty that came from his uncle Bobby. He wasn't used to the true concern that he had for Dean. He knew Bobby always loved him like a son, but honestly, Dean never understood what that meant. Not until this moment.

He leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. He wasn't ready for this. He wasn't ready for anything to change this moment. Right now, he felt he could conquer the world, but once this moment passed he knew he would be nothing, a nobody again. He would be John's oldest son, Sam's big brother, the rock of the family, the shoulder they all needed. But they would be none of that for him. He would never be anything but what was needed of him.

But, right now, right now he was someone. He was important. Someone cared about him, truly cared about him. He wondered if Bobby had always cared about him with this much sincerity.

His knees buckled under him, bending his body over so his hands were resting on his bent knees. The feeling of defeat was returning. The feeling of being a failure and weak were overtaking the love and honesty that was once there.

He slid back down the wall, landing in a seated position. His dark green eyes showed nothing but sadness and defeat.

"I've still got some work to do." Bobby stated. "You're welcome to stay where you're at as long as you want."

Dean looked up at Bobby, thankful for the understanding, for the unspoken words that meant so much.

He allowed his body to shift to the floor. He laid on his side, curled in a fetal position as the emotions washed over him. For once, he didn't try to make sense of them, didn't try to give reason to what he felt, he just let them wash over and out of his being. He let them flood through him and out into the opened space around him.

Hours passed without Dean realizing it. He had drifted between asleep and awake several times before the voice of his dad brought his mind back into focus. He was instantly alert the moment he noticed the voice was his dad's. He had found himself in a place of peaceful bliss, a place of safety and comfort.

"How the hell do you expect him to be able to fight anything when you're just catering to him, Singer?"

Dean heard his dad say. He had obviously been in a debate with Bobby before it registered in his brain and woke him up.

"And you think pushing him before he's ready is going to do any good?"

"Well, at least he won't be laying around being treated like a damn baby!"

"I am not treating him like a baby! I'm only allowing him to take things at his own pace. When he's ready he'll know, we'll all know."

Dean pushed himself into a seated position against the wall. His eyes locked on the men in front of him. He remained speechless but not unnoticed. John looked over at his son then back at Bobby.

"All I'm saying is he needs to be training, he needs to keep up his strength. Or, rebuild it since obviously he's lost most of it."

Dean rubbed his hand down his face.

"Right, cause that's your answer to everything." Bobby sighed as he drew his attention to Dean, giving him an apologetic look.

"I'm fine, Dad. Just tired, that's all." Dean replied as he stood from where he had found so much comfort. Now that his dad was in there the safety and peace was gone so it didn't matter if he stayed or left.

With his shoulders slumped, head lowered and eyes glued to the floor he walked out of the room. Looking and feeling defeated by life, by those around him.

John followed.

"Dean!"

His commanding voice stopped him in his tracks.

"Stand up straight, boy. Square your shoulders, no son of mine is going to look so damn defeated!"

"Then maybe I'm not your son anymore." Dean's voice was cracking through the tears that his own words were building. His back was facing his dad. His insides felt like they were clawing at his skin, trying to get out, trying to escape this moment.

Without Dean realizing it, his dad had taken two large strides and was standing in front of Dean, his hand had harshly grabbed Dean's chin and forced him to lift his head and look forward. His other hand pressed on Dean's shoulder, pushing him so that his shoulders weren't slumped over anymore.

"What did you say to me?"

Dean froze. He knew better than to defy his dad. But, he honestly wasn't thinking at the moment. "I said, maybe I'm not your son anymore."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"If you need me to act a certain way, to look a certain way, and I can't then… then maybe I'm not fit to be your son anymore."

"Dean!" John shouted at him louder than he meant to. "You need to snap the hell out of this, now! It's been way too damn long for you to still be acting this way! It's time to grow up and face this thing head on."

Dean locked his jaw, stiffened his body. "Yes, sir." He pulled off the most confident tone he could manage. He may not have felt it, but his dad needed to hear it.

John patted Dean's shoulder and released his chin. "That's my boy." He said with a grin.

Dean kept his head and shoulders in the position his dad had put him in as he walked up the stairs and out of sight. He wanted nothing more than to lay back down, he wasn't tired, he just wasn't sure what else to do.

He made his way to his room and found his brother in there laying on his bed reading some book. One look at Dean's bed and his stomach turned. He couldn't do it. He didn't know why. He knew he was safe, especially if his brother was in there.

He turned around, walked back downstairs, and went outside. He sat in the rocking chair on the porch, looking over the yard full of broken down cars. It was the only other place he felt completely comfortable. The only place that he had ever been able to call home.

His dad said he had become weak. Too weak to fight anything off, was he right? Had Dean drug this out far too long? Should he be over it all by now? If so, then how? How could he get over something that still caused such a heartache and so much fear inside?


	49. Chapter 49

**CHAPTER 49**

Night fell and Dean made his way inside.

"Dinner's getting cold, you need to eat." Bobby suggested.

Dean tried to shrug him off, the last thing he wanted right now was food.

"Dean, you were told to eat." John interrupted the silence.

With out hesitation Dean made his way to the table and ate the food that had been placed in his spot. He didn't even think about it, he just acted, he obeyed his dad's orders. Once he was finished, he took his dishes to the sink, washed them and placed them on the drainer.

Silently he made his way past his family that sat in the living room and went upstairs. He locked the bathroom door behind him and turned on the shower. He needed to wash something away. He didn't know what. But, there was just this need to scrub his life away. Which he tried. He scrubbed until his skin felt raw. He tried to wash everything away. He wished there was a way to wash the inside too. A way to get rid of the feelings that seemed to overtake him.

He put on clean boxers and his sweatpants. His plan was to lay down. He honestly didn't care if anyone was watching him or not. He didn't care if the creature came to him. He needed to face it, to get over it, that's what Dad had said. Somehow, he needed to let the fear go.

He stepped out of the bathroom to find Sam leaned against the wall across from the door. His arms were crossed across his chest. "It's about time! Did you have to whack off or something?"

"Shut up, Sam!"

"Well, it took you long enough!"

"I said shut up."

"Dad wants you in his room."

Dean rolled his eyes and headed toward his dad's room. He knocked lightly on the door before entering.

"Yes sir? Sam said you wanted me?" Dean heard his brother step in behind him, he heard the door close and lock. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for the threat he was feeling. His breathing increased.

He spun around to face his brother who was still standing behind him. Something didn't feel right. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he was sure he didn't like it.

Sam didn't say a word, didn't show any emotions, he pushed Dean to the floor, making him land on his back. Sam wasted no time throwing himself on top of Dean. He started to struggle, tried to push his brother off, but Sam grabbed both of his wrists and held his hands above his head, pushing them into the ground. Sam sat on Dean's hips, his chest pressed against Dean's

"Get off me!" Dean yelled as he tried to fight against Sam.

"What's a matter, Dean? Don't you like this? Isn't this what you want?"

"Sam! Get off! Stop, please."

Sam just pushed down harder, Dean spun his head around, searching for his dad.

"Dad, please." Dean pleaded even though he knew it was pointless.

John was watching Sam attack Dean. The first thing that came to mind was the fact he was in this fight alone; his dad wasn't going to help him.

He pushed hard against Sam, bucked his hips as he bent his knees, pushing Sam up and off, tossing him to the floor beside him. Sam kept a grip on Dean's wrists, pulling Dean with him and leaving him on top of Sam. He jabbed a knee in Sam's stomach, then into his groan. Sam released Dean's wrists with a grunt of pain.

It didn't take Dean but a couple seconds to be off Sam and standing with his back against the wall. He was out of breath. He may not have trained in what feels like a lifetime, but once the adrenaline hit, he found the strength to survive.

He didn't say a word, his body trembled, tears threatened to fill his eyes. Fear was coming back to him; the adrenaline was wearing off. He turned, unlocked the door and walked away.

He went into the room him and Sam shared. He crawled into his bed, buried himself under his covers. His body shook, his mind spun. He heard Sam walk into the room and his body stiffened. His breathing increased with the fear that boiled inside.

His dad was right, he was weak. He needed more training. He knew he did, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it. He couldn't let his dad know he was right. It shouldn't bother him anymore. It shouldn't scare him the way it does. He didn't understand why he still felt the way he did, why he still allowed himself to fear it.

He felt the pressure sink into his bed. He felt the cloth cover his eyes. It didn't register through his mind until his mouth was gagged by the cloth that covered his eyes and wrapped around his head, going through his mouth and tied around his throat. He quickly turned toward the threat, placing himself on his back. His wrists were held tightly, each hand beside his head, pressed into the mattress.

There was weight on his hips, then it slid further down his legs, stopping on his thighs. The weight shifted, skin against skin, bare chest against bare chest. He rocked his hips against Dean's rubbing their groans together.

Dean's body shook uncontrollably, his breaths coming in a fast panic that matched his heartrate. He couldn't see, couldn't speak. He couldn't cry for help, couldn't even plead for it to stop. He felt a cloth wrap around his wrists, holding them together above his head. The now free hand, slid between Dean's legs and across his groan. It slid under his waistband and rubbed at him.

Dean tried to fight, but he was frozen, frozen in fear. He knew he needed this to stop. He needed to get away. He needed to be safe. He tried to buck, to kick his legs, to get his hands free so he could do something to protect himself.

He laughed. That laugh. The threat laughed. It was Sam! Sam was the threat. Sam was the one causing fear.

"You do like this don't you?" Sam laughed. "Damn, Dean, you're getting hard. Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?" He ground himself harder against Dean.

Dean tried to mumble, tried to fight, his chest was heaving. He was sure he was going to vomit. He was sure he was going to shake out of his own skin. He could feel the cloth over his eyes become wet with his tears. His desperate tears.

Sam pushed the palm of his hand into the healing wounds on Dean's chest, grinding into them as he pressed his groan against Dean's bulge.

"Is this the way you like it?" Sam asked.

Dean tried to cry out in pain from under the gag.

"You like it rough? You like the pain? You like guys going inside of you?"

Sam pulled Dean's pants down past his growing bulge and grabbed onto it tightly.

Dean bucked his hips against Sam so hard he pushed him off the bed and tumbled onto the floor with him. He scrambled away from him, grabbing at the gag and blindfold his brother put over him. He realized Sam put it on with precision. When he tried to pull at it, it only tightened against the other parts, causing him to choke himself. He grabbed at the knot tied behind his neck, frantically trying to untie it.

He could feel his brother get closer, could feel the shift in the atmosphere. Panic was setting in, more panic than Dean could ever remember. His brother neared and Dean scrambled further away until he hit the wall behind him.

"Damn, Dean, let me help you untie that." Sam said, irritated that Dean was pushing away from him. "Don't worry, no matter how much you may want it, that's one line I would never cross with you."

He sounded so smug. He sounded so sure of himself, so sure that Dean wanted it. Even though Dean tried to push at him, Sam placed himself in Dean's lap, facing toward him, his legs on each side. Their groans barely touching. He pressed his chest against Dean's and reached behind him, untying the knot that kept his eyes and mouth covered.

"When the hell you gonna grow up?" Sam asked in his smug way as the cloth fell from Dean's face.

"Get. Off. Me." Dean's voice was quiet and broken, full of so much pain and distrust. He pressed his hands against Sam's shoulders, trying to push him away.

The problem was, he didn't want to do anything to hurt his little brother. He didn't want to push him or force him into anything, but Sam didn't seem to have the same respect, in fact, he didn't let up, he didn't quit.

Sam reached down and grabbed Dean between the legs.

Dean pushed his brother with all the force he could come up with. He shot to his feet. His head spun, his eyes burned, he wasn't able to catch his breath. He needed to get away, he needed to escape, to be safe. He bolted for the door, pushing Sam to the ground as he tried to block him from the door.

"Dean!" Sam tried to call out to him as he realized he was headed toward Bobby's room.

He didn't even knock. He didn't wait to be welcomed. He slammed the door closed behind him and slid his body to the floor.

The sudden interruption to the silence had Bobby bolted awake and in a seated position.

"Dean?" The old man asked once he was able to get his mind to work and eyes to adjust. He turned on the small light beside the bed and made his way to the sobbing boy.

Dean had curled his knees to his chest, holding onto them like they were going to fall off. His body shook harder than Bobby had seen him shake before.

"Dean? You alright?" Bobby sat down beside him.

Dean unfolded himself and wrapped his arms tightly around the only man he knew he could trust right now. The only man he could be himself with and let everything out. He buried his face in Bobby's chest and cried heavy tears. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath from the harshness of the tears.

His mind spun. His head ached. There was pressure building behind his sore eyes. He wanted to vomit but couldn't calm his body down enough to even do that. He was so unsure about everything. He didn't know what to think anymore. He didn't know what to feel or do.

He had always looked up to his dad, he had always trusted him. And, Sammy, Sammy was his baby brother. He protected Sam, he raised him. But, now he couldn't seem to find a place to trust either of them. One moment it would seem like they were both normal. They were loving and caring and the way they should be. In fact, for awhile Dad was even overly caring. He sat with him in the hospital, not leaving his side. He was Dean's shoulder to cry on, the person he could talk to.

But then, like a light switch one, or both, of them would change. He knew this whole situation was hard on them. He knew it was wearing on everyone. He knew this because he was no exception. It was wearing on him too. He was completely exhausted with this roller coaster he found himself on.

He could understand the sudden outbursts of anger and frustration, he felt them too. But, he knew he was the cause of this so he tried his hardest to keep it all inside, to control his frustration. He made a conscious effort not to lash out on anyone but himself.

That's the way it's always been. Dad, he was always able to handle so much then when that line was crossed he would lash out at who ever was nearby, usually that was Dean. It was Dean because he wouldn't allow Sam to take his dad's anger. Sometimes it would become abusive. Sometimes he would just yell and knock things around. Either way, he wasn't going to allow Sam to be a part of it. So, the fact his dad was presenting the same behavior now was no surprise to him, in fact, it was expected.

John had always been the type to think training was more important than anything else, so that didn't surprise him either. This training was just a little different, that's all.

But, Sam. Since when did he follow Dad's orders? It was almost like Sam was enjoying watching Dean suffer. That was one thing Dean couldn't understand. Sam was completely out of character. He would never act out like this, especially when Dean was hurting so badly. Sam had just gone through every act of rape, without the actual intercourse. Why? For training? To make him tough again?

He could understand that. He could understand he needed to be able to fight when faced with that exact situation, but damn, he wasn't ready for that, not yet. He couldn't handle it. He loved his brother more than anything, and nothing would change that, but right now, he was scared of him. Right now, he didn't want to be anywhere near him. He didn't completely understand why. But, that's just the way he felt.

His hard tears had turned to sobs as his body exhausted. He shifted himself to a laying position. He slid his head down Bobby's body and laid it in his lap. His face was buried in the old man's stomach. Dean's arms were still wrapped tightly around him.

Bobby ran his hand through Dean's hair, using a calming voice to settle him down. He wasn't sure what had happened, but he knew he had never seen him act this bad before. Even with the worst flashbacks he was never this shook up.

Dean's overwhelming mind and exhausted body soon fell limp in Bobby's lap as the adrenaline left him. He had given in to the fight and allowed his body to fall asleep or pass out. His body passed out more than anything, giving into the darkness swirling in his head, mixing with his thoughts and adding to the confusion.

Bobby shifted Dean, lifting his limp body in his arms and laid him in his bed. He placed the sleeping lad between him and the wall. He hoped he didn't wake and feel trapped, but he had this need to protect him from what ever scared him so badly, so he placed himself between Dean and the door.

He laid beside his surrogate son. He watched him lay in an unsettled sleep. It was obvious he was fighting off the demons in his head. Whatever those may be, he was fighting against them.

Dean mumbled, words Bobby couldn't understand, then came, "Sammy, no!" and "Dad, please!".

Bobby paid more attention to Dean's words and actions while he slept. At one point, he even reached down and grabbed his own groan, while mumbling, "No, Sam, please, don't."

He rubbed at his own tender wrists where they were held down. He rubbed at his chest where Sam had pressed the palm of his hand. He groaned in pain and discomfort. He grabbed at his face, the way he did when he was trying to removed the cloth Sam had wrapped around him.

This lasted for almost 3 hours before Dean took a deep gasping breath and shot up to a seated position in the bed. His sudden movement startled Bobby, and he sat up with him.

"It's okay, boy. Calm down. I gotcha."

Dean looked at Bobby confused then looked around the room, realizing where he was at. He didn't remember coming in here. He didn't know how he ended up in Bobby's bed.

"Bobby? Whhhat? How?"

"I don't know. You tell me. All I know is I was sleeping me a good sleep and you rushed in here, slamming the damn door behind you and by the time I got focused from being startled awake you were sitting on the floor, against the door, in a big 'ole mess."

Dean crinkled his face, confused.

"Wanna tell me what had you so upset?"

"It was Sssam and Dad." Dean dropped his head and leaned his back against the wall behind him. Tears dripped from his eyes as he tried to explain to Bobby what happened.

"I don't know why I got hard. Sam said it was because I wanted it, but I swear I didn't!"

By this point Bobby was seeing red. His anger had built inside of him. But, he kept a coolness about him, he didn't want Dean to think he was angry at him, and he didn't want to do anything to cause him fear.

"It's a natural, physical reaction to stimulation. It has nothing to do with wanting it or not. If certain spots are stimulated with rubbing, or certain hormones are released, then your body is just going to react. A lot of people have orgasms when they are being raped for that very reason. And, that leaves them thinking a part of them wanted it, or enjoyed it, but it has nothing to do with enjoying anything."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"So, you mean, the times I've…. Uhhh… you know… had orgasms while guys uhhhh… it didn't mean anything?"

"Exactly! It only meant your body was physically stimulated in a way that it naturally reacted."

Dean almost looked relieved. Relieved and a bit shocked. He wasn't able to talk about these things, they were just things he thought he would carry inside of him, in secret, for the rest of his life. He had no idea it was a normal reaction that meant nothing. He was so concerned that a part of him wanted them, that he enjoyed them, a part of him that he hated! But, now he didn't need to hate that part, because that part never existed. It was like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. A darkened hole had just been filled.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah, boy?"

"Is there something wrong with Dad and Sam?"

"What'cha mean by that?"

"I don't know, it's like… I don't know what to think, you know. They are caring and even Dad stayed at the hospital with me and supported me then it's like they want me to hurt. Like they enjoy it. But then they go back to caring again."

Dean sighed and wiped his hand down his weary face. "It's just so confusing. I know I might sound like a whiney bitch but… all of this, it's already so overwhelming and then their behavior on top of it… I feel like I'm going to lose my mind, like I'm going to lose my self-control at any moment, no matter how hard I try to keep it together and not go off on everyone, they aren't exactly making it easy."

"I don't know what's going on with them, hell, I'm getting just as overwhelmed as everybody else."

"I'm sorry." Dean quietly apologized.

"Boy, ain't your fault."

"I need this to stop, Bobby, please."

"Do you think you're ready?"

"Does it matter? I mean, if I'm not facing the creature then I'm having to deal with Dad and Sam, so what does it matter?"

"I'm sorry, Boy. You shouldn't have to be dealing with all of this."

Dean just shrugged.

"I know, you think somehow you deserve this, but I promise you, you ain't done nothing to deserve things this bad."

Dean lowered his head, twisted his mouth and chewed on his bottom lip.

Bobby patted Dean on the leg. "Just hang in there, it'll be okay." He reassured him. "Why don't you lay down and get you some more rest, you'll need it if you wanna face this thing."

"Yes sir." Dean didn't disagree, he was beyond exhausted, it was a feeling he had gotten used to. A feeling he was more than ready to get rid of.

Dean laid himself back down beside the one man he found safety in. Bobby laid back beside him. He continued to talk with Dean for a few more minutes, giving him comfort and security with his words, reassuring him that he has done nothing wrong, nothing to deserve any of this.

Listening to Bobby's reassurance, but not giving any reply, Dean drifted back to sleep.


	50. Chapter 50

**CHAPTER 50**

Dean shuffled in his restless sleep until he was unable to continue the nightmares and memories that flooded through his mind. He didn't waste anytime from when his eyes opened to pushing himself into a seated position on the edge of the bed. He placed his face in his hands, taking a few deep breaths and rubbed his hands down his face.

"You okay there?" Bobby questioned.

Dean didn't answer, he just stood and walked out of the room and locked himself in the bathroom. While locked alone, he allowed himself to break down once more. His body shook and the tears flooded out of his eyes. He turned the hot water on in the shower and stood in the steaming stream. He wanted so badly to wash the night away.

He allowed the water to scald his skin, turning it red and causing a prickly feeling throughout his body. He stepped out, drying what he was determined to be the last of his tears and the scalding hot water from his body.

He hesitated walking out wrapped in a towel, but he didn't want to put the same clothes back on. He wrapped the towel around his waist, telling himself everything would be okay, and he made his way to his room, relieved to see his brother wasn't in there. He quickly closed and locked the door behind him, grabbing clean clothes and putting them on as quickly as he could. He then left the room just as quickly. He wanted nothing to do with the fear that was brought up in him.

He looked in Bobby's room and saw he wasn't there. Hearing voices come from downstairs, he followed the voices and cautiously descended from the stairs.

"I don't give a hell what your intentions were!" Bobby shouted at John.

Dean stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking at his family who seemed to be into an argument. A part of him wanted to rush over there and stand between Sam and his dad, out of habit more than anything. But, he realized Sam was sitting on the couch, looking sheepish and Bobby and John were standing face to face.

Dean walked over and stood behind the couch, behind where his brother was seated. He noticed Sam's body tense up when he got close enough for Sam to sense his presence, but he didn't look up at him or acknowledge he was behind him.

"The boy needs to grow the hell up! It's past time for him to face this thing and move on!" John shouted back at Bobby.

"Oh, really? Because there's a time line on healing? There's a time line on 'moving on' and 'getting over things'? Where exactly do you fall on that time line? Huh?"

"What the hell does that mean?"

"The way I see it, trauma is trauma, right? Well, you've had a lifetime of obsession, you've flipped your and your boys' lives around to hunt the thing that killed your wife. I don't know John but, losing your wife is pretty damn traumatic, so how long did it take for you to get over it? To get back to your old self?"

"This doesn't have a damn thing to do with my Mary!"

"You're right, it doesn't! It also doesn't have a damn thing to do with you! It has to do with your first-born son."

"You don't think I don't know that? That's why the hell he needs all the training he can get right now!"

"And, molesting him is training him?"

"I didn't do shit to him! I never touched him!"

"No! Because you're a wimp! You gotta send your other son to do your damn dirty work!"

John almost laughed at that. "He wouldn't have a chance in hell if he were to go up against me right now. He's too damn weak!"

"He's the strongest person I know! No matter what you may think, he's still stronger than you'll ever be!"

"Oh, really? You just keep thinking that, Singer. You keep babying him and treating him like a damn child. That seems to be the only thing you've ever been concerned about, giving him a childhood. Well, guess what! He ain't no damn child! He never has been!"

"You're right about that! But you've made damn sure that Sam got a chance…" Bobby had turned to motion toward Sam and saw Dean standing behind him. He stopped midsentence.

John had turned to see what stopped Bobby and caught Dean's eye. He stood, body stiff, jaw tightened, his hands were clenched onto the back of the couch. His eyes looked wild and uncertain, like a caged animal waiting to attack at the first sign of a threat.

Bobby turned back to John, his voice calmed and stern. "He'll get through this don't you worry about that! But it's going to be his timing and under my terms, if you don't like that then you can get the hell out of my house."

"We'll leave if that's what you want, but my boys go with me!"

"Your boys were grown ass men the last time I checked."

"They're still my boys."

"Right! Because you're what's best for them?"

"What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You've got one that's falling apart, and in case you haven't noticed, he's falling hard. And, the other you've turned into a molester and, I'm sure if you directed your orders a little differently, he'd become a rapist too. Bang up job you've done there Winchester!"

"I gave him direct orders not to cross that line, not to rape his brother."

"Oh, that makes it all better!" Bobby said sarcastically as he threw his arms up in the air, giving up on trying to get his friend to see his point. Bobby then turned his attention to Sam. "And, what the hell were you thinking anyhow? You're smart as a whip, you should know better!"

Sam shrugged. "I was following orders."

"Since when have you ever followed your dad's orders?"

Sam swallowed hard, his body stiffened. "He said it was the only way to get Dean better, to make sure he was able to fight this thing. He had to get used to being attacked, used to fighting it off, so when it comes for real, he'll be ready. He won't be scared or freak out. It made sense at the time."

Bobby just shook his head in disbelief. "And, that required you to molest your own brother?"

"I wasn't molesting him!" Sam defended himself. "I was only training him the way Dad said to. I wasn't going to actually do anything to him. I was just trying to get him used to fighting while other stuff was going on."

"Boy! I swear, I don't know how the hell you can be so damn smart yet so dumb at the same time!" Bobby sighed. "Do you even realize what you did to your brother? Do you realize you grabbing him, and touching him, and even rubbing yourself against him, that's molestation? Or, for non-family it's called sexual assault. Especially when you have him blindfolded and gaged!"

Dean's face turned red with embarrassment. He hadn't really seen it that way either. He knew he had the same feelings as if he had been raped, but he wasn't, so the feelings he felt didn't make any sense to him. Not until now, not until Bobby spelled it out for both of them.

"I didn't mean it that way." Sam dropped his head.

"Like I said, I don't know how you can be so damn smart and dumb at the same time!"

"Anyhow," John spoke up. "he's fine." He pointed toward Dean, he honestly thought the fact that Dean was showered and dressed and awake, around the others, that he was fine.

"No, he's not! He hasn't been 'fine' in a long time, you've just been too damn blind to see it."

For the first time since Dean had walked downstairs, Sam turned his head and looked up at his brother. He noticed the sadness, the fear that ran through Dean's features. He noticed how even with his body tightened and stiff he still stood with a slump in his shoulders, a defeat Sam had never seen before. It was almost like Dean had given up. He noticed, for the first time, that Dean couldn't handle this. He couldn't handle anymore than what he had been given.

Sam's eyes filled with tears as he realized how big of a jerk he had been. How he had forgotten how hard this must be for his brother. But, that was the way it had always been. He had only thought of himself and forgot Dean had feelings too.

He lived his life following his big brother around, wanting to be just like him. He learned his every move, every telltale, everything that made Dean, Dean. But, he didn't stop to consider that under all of that there was a four-year-old little boy who lost his mother and had to grow up and raise his baby brother, without a stable home or parent. He had to take what he was given and make it work. No matter how hard it got, he didn't have a choice to give up. He didn't have a choice but to take on the world. If he didn't, neither of them would have survived.

Sure, Dean laughed in the face of danger, but it was only because he didn't have a choice. He couldn't let it break him or he would risk Sam not being protected. He thought of everything Dean had done for him. Most of it he knew about. He may not have known everything, but he knew enough. But, it was always just normal to him.

He knew his brother left at night to make money. He knew he wasn't supposed to tell Dad. He knew what he did because there had been a few times that Dean brought a man to the place they called home. He had hoped Sam was asleep, and stayed asleep, but either way he had to do what he had to do. There were a few men who insisted on going to his room to get pleasured, and they always paid more.

Sam would pretend to be asleep, after the first time he saw what was happening, he didn't want to see anymore, so he would keep his eyes closed. Once he was sure the man tried to rape his brother because Dean started fighting and crying and begging the man not to do something. He cried that it hurt too much, but Sam wouldn't open his eyes to see.

They never talked about it. It wasn't ever mentioned the next morning. Dean had known there were times Sam wasn't asleep. They had locked eye contact once. Sam just closed his eyes and rolled over, ignoring what was going on in the room with him. Dean was always thankful for that. He was thankful Sam never had him talk about it.

When he left at night, Sam knew what he was doing. He knew his brother was with other men, but he was also too young to completely understand what it all meant. As long as he had food and clothes and what he needed, he didn't bother to care.

He never imagined that all of that would come back up the way it has. He never thought that his brother's actions would tear him apart the way it has. He never imagined Dean Winchester would ever be broken and falling apart.

After feeling Sam's eyes burning holes through his soul, he looked down at his little brother. Sam's eyes were full of tears. They were saddened and broken. His face looked apologetic. It pleaded for Dean to forgive him.

He wanted to, god, he wanted to forgive Sam, but he couldn't. He couldn't because he wasn't completely sure what he was forgiving him for. But, mostly he couldn't because he wasn't sure if it would be a lost cause. He didn't know if this was just a moment that Sam cared again, then the next moment he would turn on him, or, if he was truly sorry and honestly didn't understand what he had done to him.

Dean hated feeling this confused. He hated the battle that was going on inside of his own head. Life used to be so simple. Look out for Sammy. That was it. Nothing else mattered. He didn't matter. No matter what the cost, no matter what it took, taking care of his little brother was his life. That was the one order he knew to never disobey. He knew that the life they lived could kill his brother if he let his guard down and didn't look out for him like he needed to.

But, somehow all of that got flipped. It didn't feel right, it didn't settle well with Dean. Somehow, Dean started to matter. Or, at least he thought he did. When all of this first happened, he mattered, but not anymore. Now, it was time for him to toughen back up. Time for him to face this head on so they could flip their lives back around and make things simple again.

The only thing he could do was look down at his little brother, their sights were locked on each other but neither brother could even utter a word. It's not like they would even know what to say to each other if they did speak. Bobby was right. Sam had crossed a line rather he realized it or not, he had put Dean in a place that he may never recover from. He broke him down, or at least finished breaking him. He betrayed him.

What Sam didn't know was there had been a time their dad tried to get Dean to get rough with Sam, for training purposes. He wanted him to beat him down, to show him what could really happen out there if he didn't toughen up, but Dean refused. That was the one direct order from his dad that he stood against. Sure, they had their brotherly fights and there were times they weren't all that gentle with each other, but he wasn't going to purposely hurt his little brother. He was programed to protect him, not hurt him.

But, when faced with the same situation, his brother followed his dad's orders. Sam never follows orders, he always has something to complain about, except when it was something that was going to break into the deepest, darkest parts of Dean. That's what was so hard for Dean to understand, why the hell did Sam pick this time to start obeying their dad?

Did Sam truly believe he was helping? Did he think that was the best way to help Dean? Honestly, Dean was so confused with everything around him that he didn't know if it was the best way or not. But, he was sure he hated the way it feels. But, he never judged anything by feelings, so why start now? Had he become that weak? Had he been broken that low?

There was no way he could admit to any of it. There was no way he could tell them he didn't know which way was up and which way was down right now. He didn't know where he stood or what he needed or didn't need. He didn't know if what Sam had done helped or hurt. He couldn't admit it because he would look weak in his dad's eyes, and he already looked too weak.

He was certain his dad had never seen anyone, especially a hunter, as weak and broken as he was right now. He knew his dad was disappointed in him and ashamed. That thought alone was enough to rip his heart out. He always tried so hard to gain his dad's approval. He pushed himself to make his dad proud of him. And now, due to the actions of other people, everything he worked so hard for was destroyed.

This is something he wouldn't be able to fix. His dad knew his darkness too much. He had seen him fail too much, too many tears have fallen. His dad knew how weak he truly was. Nothing he could do could fix that. Nothing could make him a strong man in his dad's eyes again.

But, the main problem was he wasn't a strong man in his own eyes either. When he looks in the mirror he's never like the person who looked back. But, now, he absolutely hated, despised the person who stared back at him.

He moved quickly across the room, he couldn't take it anymore. He couldn't listen to anymore arguing, he couldn't live in fear of anything real or imaginary. He went into Bobby's office, grabbed a bottle of pills out of the first aid kit and the silver blade off the book shelf.

"Boy, what're you doing?" Bobby questioned with concern.

Dean turned and looked at Bobby, then the other 2 who had also followed, curious what he was up to.

"Just leave me alone." Dean said calmly. "No matter what, just leave me alone."

He pushed his way past the men and headed to the stairs.

"Are you sure you're ready?" Bobby questioned.

Dean, who had made it half way up the stairs, turned and looked back at Bobby. "Not really. But, it's not like I have choice, do I?"

"You always have a choice!"

"What?" Dean spread his arms out beside him. "Wait until I'm ready and fear my own brother and dad? Put up with the exact same crap that I'd be putting up with if I lose the fight with the creature? Not much of a choice is it?"

And with that Dean turned back around and hurried up the stairs, slamming and locking the bedroom door behind him.

He didn't give himself time to think about what he was doing. He knew if he thought he would back down. So, he swallowed half the bottle of pills. He didn't want to kill himself, he just needed to make sure he would be out of it enough that the thing would come visit him. He placed the blade under his pillow in a position that would be easy for him to grab onto. He debated removing his clothes first but decided maybe the extra time it would take for the thing to remove them himself would wake him and give him what he needed to survive.

He laid down on his back on the bed. He stared up at the ceiling. He waited. Waited for the drugs to take effect, waited for a creature to come and attack him.

"Hey, Mom. If you're up there, anywhere, I could really use your help right now. I know I'm really not that important, but I gotta take care of Sammy, I can't leave him. And, Dad would be lost without me around to help him. Someone has to make sure he's okay too, he's been an empty shell without you, and even though I'm not sure if he really loves me or not, I know he needs me to keep him going. And, I'm afraid he would completely loose himself if he lost me too, and where would that leave Sam? I know I don't really deserve to ask, or deserve any help, but I don't know if I'm strong enough to do this. I don't really think I can do this alone, but Sam and Bobby both said I have to, there's no other way. And, it's not exactly like I have anyone around here I could trust to help me right now anyhow. I know I've done a lot of wrong in my life, made a lot of mistakes, but maybe if one of those angels you always talked about could come down here, if you can't, I could use them too. Really, anyone would do. I just need a little more strength, a little more time to get ready, but… well… it's not exactly like I'm living in a dream world right now. I mean, I can't keep hurting, I can't keep dealing with this stuff. I just need it all to stop. One way or another, I need it to stop. But, if you can't help me and this thing finishes me off, could you at least… maybe… I mean… if you could maybe spare the time or something… maybe I could see you again? Please?"

Dean let the tears run down the side of his face as he stared at the ceiling and talked to the only person he thought would possibly listen. As the pills took effect the ceiling started to blur and move like it was breathing. He reached under his pillow, beside the blade and took out the picture of his mom that he kept under there. He looked at it one last time. "I love you Mom." He placed it back under his head and didn't fight the effects of the pills as he fell unconscious.


	51. Chapter 51

**CHAPTER 51**

Everything went black as Dean fell into the darkness of unconsciousness. He stood, outside of his body, in darkened space. He turned his body in a circle, looking at the place he was standing. Wondering where the hell he was at.

He stopped his movement when he saw a part of the darkened floor move. It shifted and formed into a shape that grew bigger and taller.

"Whoa! What the hell?" Dean questioned out loud, watching the shape form in front of him.

He squinted his eyes as the darkness shifted giving him better sight of the being forming in front of him.

"Mom?" Dean's voice cracked with shock and disbelief as the shape before him turned into his mom.

"Dean, my love." Mary's voice was as gentle as he always remembered it.

"Mom? Does this mean that I'm dead?"

"No, sweetie, you're not dead, you're just dreaming right now." She walked toward him and placed her hand on the side of his cheek.

He flinched slightly, not used to everyone's touch being so gentle, then he leaned into the softness of her hand.

"Dean, I know you've gone through a lot right now." Mary began to sooth her oldest son. "I wish I could take all your pain away. I know you're hurting and unsure of yourself. But, Dean, you can do this. You're stronger than you think you are. You just need to believe in yourself."

"I… I can't."

"Dean, the things that have been done to you, you'll be able to get through it, you're strong enough."

"No, I'm not." Dean lowered his head with his voice as a tear dripped from his eye.

"Yes, you are. Dean. You're the strongest one in the family. You've held everyone together and still manage to keep yourself going. I know, you've wanted to give up so many times."

"I did."

"I know. Bobby and your dad and brother saved you, they brought you back. Dean, it wasn't your time to go, and now isn't your time either."

"I can't… I can't keep… I can't handle anymore pain right now. I can't deal with this anymore."

"Dean, you're strong enough to beat this. You'll get through it, I promise, you just need to have faith in yourself."

"I can't, Mom. I… I don't know how to believe in myself anymore. It just seems like everything I do I screw it up."

"You won't screw this up. I just needed to come see you, to tell you how strong you are and how proud I am of you. You're strong enough to do this. Now, it's time for you to go back, time to do something for yourself, you need to go save yourself."

"Mom. I want to stay here. Please? I don't want to go back."

"Dean, you need to go back. It's coming for you, it'll be there soon and you need to be ready. You said yourself you couldn't leave Sam or John, now go. Do this for me."

Dean leaned into his mom's touch one more time. He placed his hand over hers as she wiped the tears from his cheek.

"I love you, Dean."

"Mom?"

She was gone, nothing but empty space around him.

He felt another touch, it wasn't soft like his mom's. This one meant harm. It meant to hurt him. The creature. It was there. But, how does he go back? How does he leave this darkened space and make it back to his body?

"Mom!" Dean screamed out. "I don't know how! I don't know how to make it back!"

"Believe." His mom's voice seemed to come from the space all around him.

"Believe?" He repeated to himself. He closed his eyes. "Believe. Believe. Believe." He imagined himself laying in bed. He imagined his room. And, he imagined the thing that had visited him before.

It seemed like an instant, somehow, he was just transformed back into his body. But, instead of allowing himself to come completely back, he kept his eyes closed, kept imagining.

He could feel the weight on top of him. He felt long, slithery fingers trace his waistband as it pulled his pants away from his body and down his thighs. He felt it's hot breath on his neck and face. There were drips of drool that fell on his cheek, mixing with the salty tears that ran from his eyes.

He imagined fighting it, he imagined his hands wrapped around its neck. He imagined the air being forced from it's lungs and blocked from entering again.

He felt it enter his body, an act that caused him to force out a scream of pain.

He imagined his hand sliding away from its neck and pushing on it's stomach, pushing it away from him. He imagined that he punched it, weakening it.

He imagined his mom, being there to help, being proud of him. He reached under his pillow for her picture. Then, something clicked in his mind, he remembered what he needed to do. He slid his hand over and grasped the blade.

His cries of pain were just echoes in the air around him. Everything his mind imagined his body would react and follow the command. He imagined his arm lifting with the blade and it stabbing into the base of the thing's skull.

He could hear the crunch of the bones. He could feel the knife colliding and twisting against the bones and wrapping itself around the muscles and nerves and tendons that connected everything as it cut and tore through them. He could hear the screeching of the air being released as it's lungs deflated. He felt the final desperation as it clawed at him.

He felt the burn down the side of his face and down his neck where it left its claw marks, dug deep into his skin. He felt the creature's other hand wrap around his throat, as a final desperate act to save itself. He felt the thing swell as big as it could inside of him, leaving him with a final scream of pain.

He felt the blood pour down his hand and drip from his arm. He felt the blood run from the creature's neck and drip unto his chest. He twisted the blade some more, making sure it was dug inside as deep as it could go. The creature tried to claw at him again, leaving it's mark down his upper arm, then it's weight collapsed on Dean's chest. It was motionless. He couldn't even feel the movement of breathing.

"BOBBY!" Dean screamed out, unable to even open his eyes, too afraid it wouldn't be over. He needed so badly for it to be over. But, he could still feel it, still feel it laying on top of him, he could still feel it inside of him. "Bobby." Dean sobbed out and he tried to push the creature off of him, the pain from pulling it away, the pain from pulling it out of him, stopped him from trying any further.

His body shook, his hand fumbled with the blade that he was still holding onto, it was still buried deep into the creature's skull. "Bobby, please." Dean pleaded again, more desperate than the last plead.

He heard the noise, heard the bangs, it didn't register what it was. His mind twisted around the adrenaline and pain. "Bobby!" Dean cried out. "Bobby, please, Bobby." His voice was broken and desperate.

"Dean! Oh my god, Dean!" Bobby busted through the door, as soon as he heard Dean call out for him he was there, trying to break the door down. "I'm right here, Dean, I'm right here. It's okay, boy. You did it. It's okay."

"Bbb…Bbbobby." Dean stuttered, reaching out his free hand for the man he was pleading for.

Bobby grabbed Dean's hand. "It's okay, Boy. You did good. You got it. It's dead, now how about we get it off you, huh?" Bobby placed his hand over Dean's hand that held the blade. "You can let go now, you can let go."

Dean's hand trembled as he hesitantly loosened his grip on the blade.

"Dean!" Sam stopped in the middle of his rush into the room, shock filling him. His dad right behind him, he ran into his back when he stopped. Both unsure of what to do.

"I got this." Bobby said, looking up at the men.

"Okay, Dean. You can open your eyes, it's dead." Bobby said as he lifted the blade from the creature's skull. Dean opened his eyes and watched as the bright green blood dripped from the blade. Bobby laid it on the floor beside him.

"It's going to hurt, isn't it?" He asked Dean.

Dean nodded his head as he took in the sight of, not red, but green blood that covered him and dripped from the creature's body.

"Get it off." Dean begged. "Bobby, get it out."

He closed his eyes back. Unable to handle what was going on, unable to allow his mind to function properly.

"Okay, kid. You ready?"

Dean nodded, grasping tightly to the sheets he was laying on.

Dean tried to hold it in but wasn't able. It started with a small grunt and ended in a painful scream with tears rushing down his cheeks.

Bobby rolled the body off Dean and unto the floor. "Okay, kid. It's done. He's not a part of you anymore."

Dean laid still, his breathing was heavy. His body shook. His eyes screwed shut.

"Sam, get me a warm, damp rag and bucket of water. John, start him some hot bath water."

Neither of them hesitated to follow Bobby's orders.

Bobby took the water and rag from Sam and started to gently wash the blood from Dean's face. "How about we get you cleaned up, huh?"

Dean just laid still, allowing Bobby to wash away the blood and tears and drool from his face. He wiped at the bleeding claw marks down the side of his face and neck.

"These might need stitches." He announced. Still not gaining any response from Dean.

"Come on, Boy. Let's get you in the tub and get all of this crap washed off you." Bobby suggested.

He pulled Dean's pants back around his waist and him and Sam helped Dean stand and make his way to the bathroom.

Dean dropped himself to the floor beside the toilet. He gave the bowl a hug as he heaved and released the contents of his stomach. The stomach acid burned his throat as it came up. His body shook harder as the tears flowed down his cheeks with the misery he was feeling.

John placed a gentle hand on Dean's back. "Hey there, Champ, how about I help you get cleaned up?"

Dean startled and pushed himself away from his dad and backed himself into the small spot between the toilet and the sink. He pulled his knees up to his chest and started rocking back and forth. He hummed to himself, trying to block the world out.

"Dean?" Bobby hesitated on making any movement toward him. "You want me to have your dad leave?"

Dean nodded a quick, repeated nod.

"Okay." Bobby agreed, looking up a John with a look that said he needed to respect his wishes at the moment. "What about Sam? Do you want him to leave too?"

"Sam?" Dean asked with a shaky voice. He hadn't even realized his brother was there. "Sammy. NO, he can't see, not again!" Dean started to panic, started to push himself out of the spot he was in.

Bobby held Dean's shoulders as he tried to stand. "Dean, hey, calm down. Sam can leave too if that's what you want. In fact…" Bobby turned toward Sam. "I think that might be best for right now." He turned back toward Dean. "I'll help you get cleaned up and take care of these wounds. Okay? We'll get your mind straightened back up a little then go from there, okay?"

Dean nodded, relaxing a bit.

Bobby turned to John and Sam. "It's just for now. Let me get him cleaned up and calmed down. We'll see how he's doing after that."

"Okay." Sam replied.

He was sad that his brother didn't want him around, but also, his response almost shattered him. When he realized Sam was there, his first response wasn't what he had done to him, it was that he didn't want him to see again. The only thing Sam could translate that to was the time him and Dean were captured together and he had to watch his brother get beaten and raped. Dean had just gone through that again, and he didn't want Sam to have to suffer through seeing it again.

"Thanks Bobby, but I think I can take care of my own son." John sounded angry.

Dean startled a little under his dad's anger. Bobby held a hold onto his shoulders when he felt him flinch.

"Dad!" Sam protested. "This isn't a competition. I don't think Bobby is trying to take over being Dean's dad. He's just concerned about him, the same as me and you. And, whatever will help make Dean feel comfortable right now, we should honor. Besides. We have a mess to take care of in the room, and someone needs to take care of that body."

"The boy ain't wrong." Bobby replied.

"Come on." Sam grasped his dad's shoulder. "Help me take care of this creature."

John sighed but went to help Sam anyhow. He knew the body needed to be disposed of properly before anything else came of it. So, he left Bobby and Dean alone to help Sam with the cleanup.

"I… I gggot tttthhhis." Dean stuttered as he turned away from Bobby.

"Alright, but I'm not going anywhere, you got that?"

Dean nodded. He tried to take a step forward but fell to his knees instead. Bobby had grabbed him, keeping him from falling forward and helped lower him to his knees.

"Don't be a fool, boy. Let me help you." Bobby said as he started removing Dean's shirt. "Besides, who the hell do you think is going to tend to your wounds?"

He helped Dean undress and get into the hot tub of water. He handed Dean a rag and soap so he could at least make an effort to clean himself. But, he seemed to have zoned out. So, Bobby took over and cleaned the red and green mixed blood from Dean's body. He noticed Dean didn't sit in the tub, he remained on his knees. Sure, he allowed his body to relax, but his bottom rested on his legs not the unforgiving hardness of the tub. He also noticed Dean kept his legs apart, giving an empty space where certain areas wouldn't be touching anything.

He knew Dean must be in pain. He saw the thing when he pulled it out of him. He saw how swollen and big it was. He knew it hurt like hell while it was inside of him and had to hurt even worse coming out. He watched as the water beneath him turned red. He wondered how to approach that, how to see if Dean needed stitches 'down there'. He was sure he did. He had some that were made to dissolve after so long, so they wouldn't need to be taken out. But, how in the world would he even ask, or get Dean to let him examine him?

He finished cleaning Dean's body, and he remained in a daze. "You okay there?" Bobby gave Dean a light shake of his shoulder.

"Dad's pissed." Dean mumbled.

"Yeah well, ain't the first time, won't be the last."

"He's not proud, he's pissed."

"Who said he's not proud of you? I'm sure he is. He's just not one to show it, you know?"

Dean looked over at Bobby. "Do you think he loves me?"

"Now, what in tarnation would make you ask something like that?"

Dean just shrugged and turned his head back forward.

"You ready to get out and get those gashes stitched up?"

Dean nodded. "Bobby."

"Yeah?"

"I think I'm hurt."

"You have some pretty nasty gashes on your face and neck and down your arm."

"That's not what I mean."

A wave of relief washed over Bobby. Dean was addressing the issue, but it also concerned him that Dean was the one bringing it up.

"Yeah, I think you are too. You're bleeding a lot."

Dean just nodded as his body tipped forward. Bobby reached out and stopped him, pushing him back upright. Dean closed his eyes as a wave of dizzying sickness washed over him.

"Alright, lets get you outta there before you pass out on me." Bobby half chuckled.

Dean helped the best he could. Once he was out of the tub he fell back to his knees at the toilet. He dry heaved, bringing up some stomach acid in the process. He laid his arm across the seat and rested his head on his arm. His eyes remained closed to keep the dizziness away.

Bobby decided that was the best position as any given the fact that Dean obviously couldn't sit down at the moment. He adjusted Dean's head so he was able to get to the entire wound. Dean didn't fight against him.

Bobby pulled out the stitches. "You ready for this?"

Dean gave a slight nod, keeping his head as still as possible, but also feeling if he tried to speak it would only make him feel sick again.

Bobby felt Dean flinch with the first poke of the needle but remained still after that. Bobby wasn't completely sure that Dean hadn't fallen asleep. Once he finished the last of the stitches and cleaned and bandaged the area he gave Dean a gentle pat on the back.

"Ready for me to get to that arm now?"

Dean slipped open his eyes, looking up at Bobby. He wasn't sure how to position himself. His injured arm was down at his side, between him and the wall. He could move to the other side of the toilet and place the injured arm over the seat but that would only cause pain in other areas.

Then, there was the slight problem of that other area that needed to be looked at. He really had no desire to be awake during that. He had already suffered enough and felt that would be the ultimate embarrassment. It would be the thing that would finish shattering him.

"cccan… can I…" Dean drew in a deep breath, pushing back the nausea. "Do you have anything for pain?" He mumbled into his arm, his eyes remained closed.

"Don't you think you put enough crap in your system for one day?" Bobby questioned.

Maybe Bobby was right. Dean couldn't seem to keep his eyes opened as it was. He blamed it on the dizziness and nausea, but maybe it was caused from the pills he took earlier. Maybe all he needed to do was lay down and he'd go back unconscious.

"I… I…" He turned his face back into the toilet bowl as the nausea hit him.

"You need to lay down?"

Dean nodded his head.

"Alright, let's get this wave of nausea over with then I'll help you to bed, okay?"

Dean tensed.

"You can lay down in my room."

Bobby felt Dean's body relax again.

He pushed his head up and looked at Bobby through half open eyes. His face was pale and showed no emotion.

"You ready?"

"Yeah." It came out as almost a whisper.

Bobby helped Dean stand, wrapping the towel around his waist. He held onto Dean, making sure he remained upright, and helped him to his room. Dean practically collapsed onto Bobby's bed. The jarring of his body caused him to gasp in pain. He laid on his stomach and stretched out his injured arm.

"Bbbobbby?"

"Yeah?"

"Cccan you… uhhh… start with my arm… maybe… I can… umm… fall asleep… before… you know…. before you… take care of… anything else?"

Bobby gave a slight rub and pat to Dean's back. "Yeah, sure." He said, understanding what Dean was saying. "But, you know if you're not asleep, it'll be okay, right? I know it's not ideal, for either of us. But, I'll try to give you time to doze off. I'll make it as easy on you as I can."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"Yeah, kid, no problem."

Bobby started stitching, cleaning and bandaging Dean's injured arm. It wasn't as deep as the gashes on his face and neck. The creature had lost its strength and power before getting ahold of his arm. But, there were still places that needed stitches.

Dean closed his eyes. He allowed the sweet darkness to take over. He just wanted everything to stop. He wanted his mind to be quiet. He needed the blissfulness of nothing. Even if just for a moment, he needed it to be able to gather himself.

'mom.' Dean spoke to her in his head. 'Thank you. I love you. If I could ask just one more thing, please let me go back unconscious. I need to sleep this off. I need to not be aware while Bobby… you know… takes care of things. I don't think I could handle that. I know you say I can. And, I did. I beat that thing. I killed it. But, it still hurt me. And, it hurts bad. I think there might be something wrong. I don't know. But, Bobby is going to find out, if he can, but, even if I can handle it. I don't want to. I know that might make me sound weak, but I can't help it. Mom. This is worse than anything I've ever had to face my entire life. I can't explain it. It's degrading and embarrassing and… I don't even want you to be a part of it, but I can't help it, because you're my mom, and I need you! And… and I love you! I just wish I had someone here who could love me too.'


	52. Chapter 52

**CHAPTER 52**

"I do." Mary said.

Dean opened his eyes and he was standing back in the darkness. He wasn't sure how or when he had gotten there. "Mom?"

"Yeah, Dean. It's me. I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks." Dean gave a crooked half smile. He wasn't used to hearing that. He wanted so badly to believe it but couldn't completely allow himself to.

"Dean." Mary placed her hands in Dean's. "Your dad loves you. I know he does. He always has, he's just not comfortable showing it, but trust me, it's there in his heart. He may not be perfect, but he always wants the best for you."

"May not be perfect? Do you even know the man anymore? There's times he been far beyond 'not perfect'."

"Yes. I know. And, he's neglected my boys. He made you do things you didn't want to in order to take care of your brother. As much as that may have hurt, I'm proud of you for doing everything you could. For taking care of him when your dad didn't."

Dean just shrugged. He wasn't so used to people noticing the things he did, so he wasn't really sure how to react. He also wasn't proud of the things he had to do, it wasn't something he wanted to talk about.

"Dean, you've done so much for everyone around you, but especially for your family. Without you, I don't think John and Sammy would still be around. You've held them together, you've been their rock."

"Yeah, well, where's my rock when I need one?"

"Unfortunately, the savior doesn't always get saved. The hero doesn't always get the help he needs. It can be a lonely life, even with people around you, it can be lonely. But, you have Bobby. If you can't count on anyone else right now, you can count on him. He'll be there for you through anything. Even when you feel alone, as long as he's around, you'll never be alone."

"I just want you back." Dean sighed.

"I wish I could come back. But, I can't."

"Then, let me stay here, with you!"

"You can't do that; your family needs you too much."

"You are my family!"

"That's not what I mean, and you know it." Mary wiped the tears from her son's face.

"Mom, please." Dean begged.

"Dean, I love you so much. You have a heart that reminds John of me. You have my compassion and you care about everyone you meet. Just like I used to. You'll do fine out there. All of this, it'll pass, and you'll heal. It might take a little time, but you'll heal, and you'll be back out there doing what you do."

"I don't want to be back out there. Right now, all I want to do is die."

"I know you do." Mary placed her hand over his heart. "But, it isn't your time, not yet, not for a long time. No matter how much you may try, it will never stick, because you still have several years ahead of you."

"Great." Dean replied sarcastically.

"Dean. Take this time to heal. I mean, really heal. You're going to need it. You hear me? You're going to need some down time to physically heal, but you also need to mentally heal. You need to heal some tears in the family and some holes in your heart. You need to make sure your soul is fully intact before you go back out there. Trust me on this, okay?"

"Yeah."

"I'm going to send you back now. Bobby's done. He put some stitches in you and did the best he could to stop the bleeding and create a homemade plastic surgery job. It'll be fine. Everything will heal, physically. It's up to you how things heal mentally."

"Mom, please, just a few more minutes with you."

"I have to go, and so do you. I love you, Son. And, never forget how proud I am of you."

She ran her hand down his cheek and then she was gone and he was back into his body.

He moaned and moved slightly, realizing he didn't feel any pain while he was with his mom, now he had to get used to it again.

"Take it easy, Boy." Bobby said, placing a hand on Dean's back to keep him calm. "I did the best I could, but you don't wanna tear any stitches, especially there."

Dean grunted and groaned. "Thanks." He managed to huff out as he caught his breath.

He slightly opened his eyes to look at Bobby, still feeling the effects of the drugs from earlier.

"You get you some more rest, okay? I'm going to go check on the progress of your dad and brother. You don't have anything to worry about sleeping anymore. So, rest up! The more you rest the faster you'll heal.

Dean slightly nodded and closed his eyes again.

"How's he doing?" John asked as Bobby stepped into the room.

"He's tough, he'll be okay."

John just nodded.

"Did you take care of the body?"

"Yeah." Sam replied. "It's taken care of, and we're almost done in here."

"I see that, good job!" Bobby replied as he leaned against the door way. He still wanted to keep an eye on his room where Dean laid. He wasn't sure exactly why, but with everything that had been happening he felt wrong leaving Dean alone.

"He's going to need time to heal." Bobby spoke to no one imparticular. "He's got some serious injuries. That thing got him good. Took several stitches to get him fixed up."

"But, he's going to be okay?" Sam questioned as he stood from where he had just finished cleaning the last of the mess and sat on the edge of his bed.

"Yeah, he'll be okay. Physically anyhow." Bobby replied as exhaustion started finding its way into his voice.

John stood and made his way beside Bobby, giving his old friend a pat on the back of his shoulder. "It's been an exhausting time, why don't you go get you some rest. Sam and I need to go into town and get Dean a new bed and bedding. We'll be gone for a couple hours."

Bobby nodded, looking blankly at the empty space where Dean's bed once sat. They had burned it after they finished with the body. They both agreed there was no point in trying to clean it, not with the amount of fluids and blood that had seeped into it, plus Sam didn't think Dean would ever want to lay in it again. He was having a hard-enough time looking at it from the time before.

"Okay." Bobby replied blankly. "And, John." Bobby looked at his friend. "Sam was right, you know. I'm not trying to take your place with Dean. I never have. I'm just trying to be there for him anyway I can, trying to make him comfortable, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. I want what's best for him too. It's just not exactly easy to see your boy hurting like that."

"I know it's not. But, hopefully the physical hurt will be over soon. But we gotta all work together to help him mentally."

"Go get you some sleep." John suggested as he stepped away. "Sam and I will be back in a couple hours."

Bobby nodded. Sam stood to walk out with his dad. Bobby walked downstairs with them, he wasn't sure exactly why. Perhaps he just needed a break from everything upstairs for a moment. Once they had made their way to the truck and headed out, Bobby made his way back upstairs and to his room.

Dean laid on his stomach, asleep. He wasn't dressed yet, but Bobby had left him with covers over the bottom half of his body. He laid beside the boy who laid unconscious. "It'll get better, Dean." Bobby sighed. "You can feel it in the air, there's been a shift." Bobby yawned and stretched his old bones as he settled into his bed and closed his eyes.

Hours of restful sleep had passed before Dean woke Bobby in a painful shuffle of his body combined with groans and sobs of pain.

"Take it easy there, Dean." Bobby said as he worked on letting his eyes open and adjust to being awake.

A mumbled groan was the only response Dean gave. He shifted his body to his side to look at Bobby. His body trembled and pain was evident on his face.

"It's over?" He asked Bobby.

"Yeah. It is. You did good, kid." Bobby replied.

"It hurts like a bitch!"

"I'd say it does. You need to take it easy and let yourself heal up."

"Yeah." Dean closed his eyes and groaned as another wave of pain came over him.

"How you feeling?"

"Besides the damn pain? Better. The world isn't moving on its own and I don't feel like I'm going to puke my insides out."

Bobby chuckled. "Good. The effects of all the earlier pills out of you?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Bobby nodded. "Need something for pain?"

"Yeah." Dean said with a grunt that was suppressing a cry of pain.

There was a knock on the door. Bobby thought about making whoever it was leave but figured that everyone needed to be involved in Dean's healing. Bobby couldn't do it alone.

"Come in." Bobby said as he rolled himself off the bed.

Sam shyly opened the door and made his way into the room.

"How's Dean doing?" He asked with a childlike tone in his voice. It was like he was afraid to even ask, like he didn't have the right to ask.

"I'm fine, Sam." Dean grumbled.

Sam sat on the edge of the bed near Dean's legs.

"I'm going to go get him some water and something for pain, you two gonna be okay in here while I'm gone?"

"Yes sir." Sam replied with his head lowered to the ground.

"Yeah." Dean sighed, pain evident in his voice.

Bobby nodded and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him.

Sam moved so he was sitting in the middle of the bed, closer to Dean. "You sure you're doing okay?"

"It hurts like hell right now. But I'll be fine." Dean managed to get the words out between gasps of pain.

He closed his eyes and tightened his jaw. The burning sensation seemed to be growing inside of him. He rolled onto his side with an audible groan of pain. He then pulled his knees to his chest. His breaths were coming in short, shallow pants.

Sam placed his hand on the back of Dean's shoulder. "You okay there?"

Dean reached up and grabbed a fistful of the front of Sam's shirt. The action was followed by a cry of pain. Dean's body trembled.

Bobby walked back in the room about the time Sam could feel panic rising in him.

"Here ya go." Bobby said as he made his way toward Dean. He popped some pills in his mouth and tilted the glass of water so he could swallow them down.

Dean guzzled the water. He placed a shaky hand on Bobby's, an attempt to help Bobby give him the water. He guzzled it like he hadn't had water for weeks. Once it was finished Bobby pulled the glass away. For an instant, Dean leaned forward as Bobby pulled it away, he was wanting more, wasn't wanting the water to be taken from him.

"Take it easy there, kiddo." Bobby stated. "Don't wanna make yourself sick, I think that's enough water for right now."

Dean laid his head back and relaxed, his breathing was labored and his eyes remained closed. He continued to hold onto Sam's shirt.

"I'm gonna go get him some more water, you okay?" Bobby asked Sam.

"Yeah." Sam replied, sadness had crept into his voice.

Bobby gave him a gentle pat on the back and headed out to get Dean some more water for later.

Dean was in obvious discomfort. Sam wasn't sure exactly what was causing all of it, he was too afraid to ask. He just sat there, unsure of what to say, or if anything he said would even matter.

Bobby returned with the glass of water. He looked exhausted. He sat the water on the table beside the bed.

Sam gave him a nod.

"If you're good." Bobby whispered, seeing Dean was already half asleep. "I'm gonna go to your room and catch some Z's."

Sam nodded at him. "Yeah, we're good here."

"If you need me just holler."

Sam nodded and Bobby walked out of the room.

Dean started to become restless, he shifted his body around in the bed, his legs didn't seem to be able to stay still as he kicked beneath the covers. His eyes were closed, his face screwed as tightly as his jaw was clenched. He tightened the grip on Sam's shirt, twisting his hand in it.

His breaths were quick pants mixed with moans of pain. He started gasping for air, unable to get what his lungs were needing. On exhale he would release painful cries. He had curled himself into a ball, laying on his side. He had Sam's shirt twisted in his hand and a death grip on him.

His body tightened. His other hand curled into a fist. His face covered in beads of sweat. And, the trembles started. They started small, and grew larger, becoming full body shakes.

"Bobby!" Sam shouted as loud as he could. "Hey, Dean. It's okay. Dean? Answer me, hey." Sam tried but was unable to get his brother's attention. "Bobby!" Sam repeated louder.

John and Bobby had both rushed into the room. As soon as Bobby saw Dean he knew what was happening. He knew Dean was going into seizures. He immediately grabbed the medication he needed and had a needle in Dean's arm as his body shook uncontrollably. His eyes rolled in the back of his head, he was unable to take a breath, gargling his own saliva. His entire body was tightened as tight as his muscles would allow.

Suddenly, as quickly as it started, Dean's body went limp. His grip on Sam's shirt released, however his hand remained wrapped in his shirt. His breathing came easier but was still labored. His eyes went back to the front of his head and remained closed. The shakes had turned into body trembles.

Sam moved closer to Dean. He wiped away the sweat that was beading on his forehead. He moved his brother's hair that was stuck to his forehead in the sweat.

"Bobby, what's wrong with him?" Sam questioned.

"He's poisoned, by that creature. He's fighting a battle inside, physically. The poison burns. Mostly, the feeling stays where the creature's fluids are, but sometimes it'll try to fight him, try to take over, to creep through his body."

"So, basically, his insides feel like they're on fire?"

"Basically. Yes."

"Damn."

"Yeah." Bobby agreed. "Plus, you saw that thing when I pulled it off him, or, uh, out of him."

"Yeah, it was huge!"

Bobby nodded. "His insides, and externally, are torn to hell, which doesn't help matters any. The creature's fluids, it's poison, it's inside of every small tear, and the big ones that I had to stitch up."

Sam swallowed hard. "Does that include the claw marks it left behind?"

"Yeah. And, pretty much anywhere its blood got inside of him, through his eyes or mouth or even into his ears, that's one people don't realize is easier than anything else to get inside of someone. It'll cause the worse headaches too."

Sam tightened his mouth and looked down at Dean. His forehead creased between his eyebrows and tears started filling his eyes. He hadn't realized how much his brother had to go through.

"That's why," Bobby sat on the bed in front of Sam. "no amount of training would help him with this. That's why I said he needed to be ready, to be pain free. It needed to happen in his time, not everyone else's. You could train him to act without thought while being attacked, even sexually attacked, but nothing you could do to him would prepare him for the pain and suffering he had to combine with the attack. Nothing anyone could do could prepare him, he knew that. He's been attacked by this thing before. He knew what he was up against. Nothing short of pouring acid inside of him would have prepared him."

"I… I didn't know, Bobby. He, uh, he didn't tell me."

"He shouldn't have to, son. He shouldn't have to worry about his brother attacking him the way you did."

"I… I thought I was helping. That's what… uh… that's what… I'm sorry."

"Sam. I'm not the one you need to apologize to."

Sam looked down at Dean. His breathing was picking up again. His grip had tightened on his brother's shirt. He drew in deep breaths and long, drawn out moans on the exhales.

"How long does this last? How long is he going to be in pain like this?"

Bobby shrugged. "Anywhere from 24-72 hours from what I could find out. Don't know if it's going to be this bad that whole time. This is one of those things we'll have to wait and see."

"Did this happen last time?"

"Not to this extent. But, I'm sure while he was held captive and kept drugged it was this bad, but the drugs kept him from feeling it so intensely, or maybe it just kept him from remembering it so badly. But, believe me, he remembered it. He told me so. It was one of the things that scared him so much about facing it again."

Sam just shook his head and looked at his brother. He had gone through so much, how could he not have known? Where did everything go so wrong?

Dean released a long, painful groaning exhale, held his breath until his face turned beet red, then gasped in an inhale as his eyes shot open and he tightened his grip, wrapping Sam's shirt tighter around his hand, pulling the younger brother closer to him.

He pulled Sam to him, using him to pull himself part way off the bed. His head and shoulders leaned against Sam's chest. He wrapped his other arm tightly around Sam's back. He buried his face into his shirt and released a cry that left Sam's tears dripping onto the top of Dean's head.

Sam ran his fingers through Dean's hair on the back of this head, the other hand rubbed his back. "It's okay, Dean. I'm right here. It's going to be okay. I got you." Sam soothed his brother.

Dean's body trembled. His own tears soaked through Sam's shirt. The brothers remained like this until Dean's body seemed to relax and go limp as he fell into unconsciousness.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam whispered into the top of his brother's head.

He then shifted them, without losing the contact they had, until they were laying on the bed, where Dean could rest more comfortably. Dean shifted slightly, making himself more comfortable, he placed his top leg over Sam's legs, and straightened out his bottom leg, giving himself the relief from pressure where needed, and seemed to fall into a deeper sleep.

It didn't take much longer before Sam had followed his brother into sleep. Bobby placed a cover over the brothers and quietly left the room, turning out the light and closing the door behind him. He said a quick, silent prayer that Dean would be able to stay asleep and rest comfortably. He then made his way to John's room where he was sitting and worrying about his son.

"He'll be okay, John." Bobby said, standing in the doorway of the room.

"Will he?"

"Physically, yes, he'll heal and the pain will come to an end."

"And, mentally?"

"I don't know, depends on him. But, it also depends on how much positive support he gets from everyone around him." Bobby moved inside the room and sat down. "Do you remember when all of this first happened? When Dean and Sam were both held captive together and when we found them, Dean was in a mess, beaten and raped and mentally struggling to keep himself together?"

"Yeah, you and I talked a lot about what needed to be done to help him, and Sam. He was a mess too, maybe not physically, but after seeing what happened to his brother, he was struggling in his own way."

Bobby nodded. "Remember how you were there for Dean? Every step of the way you were there. I took Sam to my house and helped him deal with things and you stayed with Dean."

"Yeah. Of course, I remember."

"Do you remember how much that boy depended on you? How much he talked to you?"

"Yeah. He really opened up. Told me things I never imagined he would."

"Exactly. John, when he started opening up to you, your opinion of him, the way you looked at him, it all changed. It changed from both of you, Sam too."

"No, it didn't!"

"Look, I'm not trying to start anything with you. I'm too damn tired for that right now. I'm just stating the facts, and don't think Dean didn't see it too, because he did. He noticed the difference in the two of you. And, it confused the hell out of him. That's why he left, why he needed to just get away, go somewhere on his own. I'm sure that's why he ended up in Kansas, he was searching for his family again."

"He knew we weren't there."

"I'm talking about mentally searching, not physically. Anyhow, when we found him, you had sat everything he had told you to the side. You were his dad again, the same way you were the first time. And, well, Dean being Dean, he allowed himself to trust you again, both of you. Look, I'm not saying you meant to, but you both let him down again. He counted on you. He depended on you. He needed you. And you let him down. You pushed him away and you both hurt him."

John ran a hand down his face. "I didn't mean to."

"I didn't say you did. But, Dean's going to need you to step back up, to be his dad again. He's going to need to know you love him, John. You're going to need to show him that, to tell him. He asked me if you still loved him."

"He did?"

"Yeah. But, I'm warning you. If you don't, then don't pretend, don't make him believe you're going to be his dad if you don't have intentions of following through."

"Damn it, Bobby. I never once said I didn't love that boy!"

"You've never said you did either."

John stood down from his defenses, Bobby was right, it was something he wasn't sure he had told his son before.

"He needs to hear what you think of him, the way you feel. Good or bad, you can't leave him questioning if you're proud of him, or believing he did something to push you away, to make you hate him. He needs to heal. Even if that means you tell him you don't give a shit and walk away. If that's what you truly feel, then don't leave him questioning. You got what I'm saying?"

"Yeah, I got it."

"Good." Bobby stood and headed for the door. "The boys are in my room, both of them sleeping. I'm gonna go lay in their room again, try to catch up on some lost sleep. If anything happens you need to come get me."

"I can handle my own son."

"But, can he handle you?" Bobby's question hung heavy in the air as he walked out of the room.

The house fell completely silent for the first time all day. All four men had found their way to a bed in an attempt to sleep off the wariness of the day.


	53. Chapter 53

**CHAPTER 53**

"Sammy?" Dean mumbled his brother's name as he fluttered his eyes open.

"Hey, Dean." Sam woke the second he heard his brother say his name. "You okay?"

"Mmm thirsty." He couldn't seem to get his words to cooperate with his brain.

"Yeah, okay." Sam shuffled out from under Dean, leaving Dean with a moan of pain. He grabbed the glass of water Bobby had left beside the bed. He lifted Dean's head with one hand and held the glass with the other.

Dean tried to help but couldn't get his shaking hand to do much but make it harder for Sam to hold the glass steady. Dean guzzled it like he did before. Desperate for the liquid to fill his body. He grasped at Sam's arm when he pulled the empty glass away, wanting it to stay, wanting it to be filled again.

"It's empty, Dean." Sam said as he sat the glass back on the table.

"Bobby says you need to take breaks between glasses, or you'll make yourself sick."

Dean sighed as he laid his head back down, his shaky hand wiped at the drool that had pooled in the corner of his mouth.

"I feel like shit!" Dean sighed.

"You look like it too."

"Gee, thanks for the support there, little bro."

"Always happy to help."

Dean worked on untwisting his hand from Sam's shirt, not having much luck he gave up, frustrated.

"Need help with that?"

"No! I don't need any damn help getting my own hand untwisted, I just decided I wanted to leave it there, that's all." Dean rolled his eyes, his voice full of sarcasm.

Sam shook his head. "Yeah, well, I gotta pee, so like it or not, you're going to need to let go of me."

Dean groaned.

"I know I'm awesomely sexy and all, but Dean, you can't touch me all the time."

"Shut up, Bitch!"

Sam chuckled again, reaching down and untwisted his shirt from around Dean's hand.

"I think I've decided the bed is a good bathroom." Dean grumbled.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you have a seizure."

"What! Again?"

"Yeah."

"Damn!" Dean dropped his released arm over his eyes.

"Yeah." Sam paused. "You gonna be alright while I'm gone?"

"I'm not a baby."

"You sure about that? You don't need a diaper or anything?"

Dean swung the pillow beside him at Sam. "Bitch!"

"Jerk." Sam laughed.

"Hey, Sam."

"Yeah?" Sam had gotten up and started heading for the door, pausing when Dean called for him.

"Bring back some water?"

Sam smiled. "Yeah, sure." He grabbed the glass and headed out the door.

Dean released a sigh when he heard the door click closed. His body ached, his insides felt like they had been on fire, he was in some serious pain, but his mind was clear enough he was able to hold it back until Sam left the room.

Sam had used the bathroom and filled Dean's glass of water, he then stopped by their room and gathered his brother some clothes.

"Dean! You okay?" Sam was surprised to find his brother in pain when he entered the room.

Dean was curled onto his side, one hand grabbed onto his pillow that his face was pressed into, the other hand grasped the cover that was over him. He was trying his best to muffle his cries of pain. He instantly sniffled the cries and wiped his eyes against the pillow before turning his head.

"Did you bring the water?" Dean questioned, holding his breath with the pain.

"Uh, yeah. I also figured you could use these." Sam said as he tossed the clothes on the bed beside Dean.

"Thanks." Dean gave a half smile. "Water?"

"Yeah, here let me help you."

He could see the frustration on Dean's face but he knew he needed the help so he didn't complain too much. His hands were still shaky. He guzzled the glass the same as the other times.

"Where is everyone else?" Dean questioned.

"I think I heard them downstairs."

Dean nodded. "Hey, Sam."

"Yeah?"

"I uh, I'm not really sure what happened."

"You mean, like why we're in Bobby's room and you're in pain?"

"Yeah, that."

"How about we go find Dad and Bobby, they can probably help with that better than I can."

Dean nodded, not sure if Sam really wasn't sure or if he was trying to avoid telling him. He cringed at his attempt to sit up and dress, rolling to his side with a groan of pain.

"Need help?"

"No, mom, I think I can dress myself!"

Sam stood back, leaned against the dresser, arms crossed across his chest. His brother was stubborn. In a way he was glad to see a part of his brother return, but he knew Dean was going to need his help.

Dean rolled his eyes. He tried to stand, he was actually surprised he was able to stand on his own. His legs were as shaky as his hands. He stumbled when he tried to put his legs into the sweats Sam had brought him.

Sam grabbed Dean around the waist to keep him from collapsing to the ground when his feet got tangled around his pants. "Thought you could dress yourself?"

"Shut up and help me."

Sam chuckled as he helped Dean get his legs untwisted and finished getting dressed. "You good now?"

"Yeah, get off me." Dean said, shrugging his brother's hands away. Yeah, Dean was stubborn, but he wasn't foolish, he knew he needed the physical help that Sam was offering. "You coming?" he asked Sam as he headed toward the door.

"Yeah." Sam smiled. "Right behind you."

"Good, how about you grab that glass and fill it on your way?"

Sam shook his head and grabbed the glass. Dean kept his arm wrapped tightly around his stomach as the burning settled in. He kept one hand against the wall for support and Sam walked on the other side of him, his hand resting on the small of his back.

They stopped at the bathroom for Sam to fill the glass. Dean was thankful for both the break and the drink. He stopped to catch his breath. He was breathing like he had just run a marathon, not walked a few feet. Sam helped him hold the glass since his hand was still shaking and he didn't want to release the hold he had on his stomach.

Sam took one hand and placed it on Dean's shoulder, giving him the physical support to stay standing and his other hand helped steady the glass. Dean guzzled the water like he would never see any again. Then he pressed his hand back against the wall as Sam took the glass and sat it on the sink. He moved back to Dean's side and rested his hand on his back.

Dean moved slow. His whole body protested against his movement. When they reached the stairs, he grasped as tight as he could to the handrail as he took each step with as much ease as he could.

Sam cleared his throat as they descended to the bottom of the stairs, announcing they were entering the room.

John was sitting in a chair beside the couch. "Dean!" He exclaimed as he looked up and saw the brothers walking toward him.

Bobby came out of his office area when he heard John speak his son's name. "Hey, there. Surprised to see you up and about."

Dean closed his eyes as his body swayed a little. Sam held onto him, keeping him standing.

"How about you lay down?" Bobby suggested as he made his way to Dean, helping Sam support him.

Dean reached out a shaky hand and pressed it against Bobby, grabbing onto him for the added support. He didn't fight against their help moving him toward the couch.

"Go ahead and lay down." Bobby said once they made it to the couch.

Dean fluttered his eyes opened and gave a few rapid blinks. He first sat on the couch, forgetting about the pain from making that mistake when getting dressed. He instantly moaned and collapsed to his side, his arm still firmly pressed against his stomach.

"How you feeling?" John asked him, hesitant to even speak.

Dean looked up at his dad, the expression of pain shining bright. "I… I'm not… I don't know… confused?"

"Confused about what?"

"I don't know." Dean said with sarcasm.

John rolled his eyes and Bobby chuckled.

"Do you know why you're at my house?" Bobby asked as he knelt on the floor beside Dean.

"Yeah."

"Why don't you run through it for me, so I know what you know."

"Cccan I… uh… can I have something to drink?"

Bobby wasn't sure what the hesitance in his question was, so he looked at Dean confused.

"Sam said that… uh… you said I needed to take breaks between drinks, so… I don't get sick."

"He's had three glasses of water since he woke up." Sam added.

"You feeling sick?" Bobby asked.

Dean shook his head. "Just really thirsty."

"Okay."

"I got it." John said as he stood from his chair and made his way into the kitchen.

"So, what do you remember?" Bobby turned his attention back to Dean.

"I know we came here cause Sam and I were captured and after we, or I, left the hospital we came here. And, then I got overwhelmed and left and got myself in another situation and something that possessed me. Then you guys made me drink Sam's foot wash to get rid of it. But, it wasn't gone. It was just out of me. And, I know it came back once. And… I don't know. I mean. I don't know why I'm in pain or… obviously something happened, but I don't know what."

Bobby nodded. "So…"

John returned with the glass and handed it to Bobby. He lifted Dean's head and helped him guzzle the water as he spoke.

"Basically, you remember everything up to the point you were injured this time?"

"Yeah." Dean said as he relaxed his head back against the couch. "I, uh, I think so, I mean. There's so much that doesn't really make sense right now."

Bobby nodded. "A lot up here." He pointed to the side of his head. "But it's all jumbled and confusing right now?"

"Yeah. I don't know what I'm just imagining or what is real that I wish I was just imagining."

"I'm pretty sure that the majority, or all of it, is the second one."

Dean just looked at Bobby and blinked. He didn't have anything to say to that. There was so much that was running around in his head. He knew he had been here before. He knew his memories would return.

"Can I have some more water?"

"How are you feeling, physically?"

"I feel like I've been run over by a truck and my insides have been caught on fire, especially my stomach."

"Yeah, I'd imagine so." Bobby said while deep in thought. He couldn't understand why Dean seemed to be so thirsty. "Does the water help, I don't know, put the fire out?"

"Some, yeah. It helps relieve the burning."

Bobby nodded, understanding better now. "So, are you thirsty or just looking for something to stop the burning?"

"Both."

"Okay. How about we get you another glass of water and wash down something for pain with it?" He handed the glass back to John and glanced at Sam who instantly went to retrieve the pain meds.

"Okay." Dean said, trying to hold back the audible evidence of pain.

Bobby placed a gentle hand on the back of Dean's shoulder. "Look, you're going to remember, okay?"

"I know, I've done this before."

"Yeah, you have. So, how about you let the stuff in your head go for right now and not worry about it, just take care of your physical needs right now. Okay?"

Dean nodded as he pressed his face into his arm and muffled a cry of pain. He turned his head slightly. "Bobby, it hurts."

"I know it does, kiddo, I know." He reached up and wiped the single tear that made its way out of the corner of Dean's eye.

John had returned with the water and Sam handed Bobby the pain meds.

"Here ya go, lets get you feeling better, okay?"

Dean nodded as he accepted the pills and once again guzzled the water.

He laid his head back down and closed his eyes. "Did I do something wrong?" Dean asked with his eyes still closed.

"What do you mean?" Bobby asked.

Dean opened his eyes and looked over at his dad. "Did I do something to make you mad at me?"

"Why do you ask that?" John questioned, not missing the look his friend was giving him.

"I don't know, you act like you don't want to be around me or something. I… I know we had a falling out over what… what I did to take care of Sam when… when we were younger. But, I thought that was settled?" Confusion was written all over Dean's face.

"No, son. You didn't do anything wrong." John sighed as he leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees and placed his face in his hands.

Dean looked over at Bobby for answers. He didn't see anything in his face so he looked back to his dad who hadn't lifted his face. He then looked to his brother who just shrugged, then back to his dad.

"Whatever it was, I'm sorry." Dean spoke with so much conviction, so much belief that he was the one to mess everything up.

"Dean." John's voice was muffled as he lifted his face from his hands. "You didn't do anything, okay? It wasn't you."

"Then…" Dean paused, looking at Bobby and Sam again, then back at his dad.

"Dean!" John's voice was ruff and full of frustration. He spoke with command in his voice, like he was giving an order. "Drop it, okay? We'll discuss it later."

"Yes sir." Dean's reaction was instant, thoughtless.

"John." Bobby's tone held a warning to his friend. A reminder that his son was needing reassurance. He was needing his dad to be a dad, to reassure him he was good, that everything would be okay.

"Not now." John growled at Bobby as he stood with anger and frustration and walked out the door.

"Dad!" Sam tried to stop him but didn't even make an impact as the man walked past him.

Dean's heart sunk. There was no way he was going to let anyone know that. He didn't know what he had done, but it was bad enough that his dad didn't want to be in the same house as him. He closed his eyes and buried his face into his arm.

He was hurting so bad, he knew the pain all too well. He had been… no… maybe not? He would say he had been raped, but perhaps, judging by his dad's reaction, this was something he had chosen? Maybe he willingly got with another man. He didn't know why he would do that. But, he figured it was possible.

Then he had an image of Sam on top of him, holding him down, grabbing his groan. Maybe… maybe… him and Sam? There was no way he would do that to his brother, but, maybe he let Sam? He figured that would give his dad enough to hate him.

But, still. That didn't seem right. He would never do anything like that with his brother. In fact, the whole image had to be made up, maybe he just put Sam's face on the body again. He had done that before. Thought Sam was there when he wasn't.

There had to be something he was missing. Something he couldn't remember. He just knew he had done something. Everything always fell on him. It was always his fault. He just wished he could remember. But, it was so hard to think with this damn pain.

Why was he burning so badly? Why the hell won't it go away? He was sure his insides were on fire. Water. He needed water. He needed water to put out the fire, to quench the dryness that came with the flames that licked at his insides.

The fire inside dried everything up, leaving nothing but smoldering ashes in its path, drying everything up with the heat. He was so hot on the inside he felt like his breath was coming out as puffs of smoke from the flames. Like a dragon.

He was a dragon. Maybe this is how dragons felt? Why they breathed so much smoke? Because they had fire building up on the inside. Why did he have to be the dragon? Why couldn't he be the brave knight?

If he was going to be stuck being a dragon he was going to be a friendly dragon. Like the ones you see on the cartoons. Yeah, he would be friends with the brave knights and save them from the enemies and other dragons.

But, if he was a dragon, that would make him a monster. He didn't want to be a monster. He would be hunted. A monster. He was already a monster. That creature, the thing that possessed him had turned him into one.

He just wanted to be himself, he didn't want to be a monster. He didn't want his dad to hate him. His dad. Maybe that's why his dad couldn't stand to be around him? Because he was a monster. Maybe he just didn't want to hunt him? But, Dean had tried to take care of that. He tried to kill the monster but failed. Dad and Bobby and Sam, they brought him back. They saved him. Mom said it wasn't his time.

Mom. He remembered seeing his mom. He wanted to go back to her. He was comfortable and happy and safe there. But, he couldn't remember why he saw her.

The fire. Oh god! The fire just ignited inside of him, blowing up like a bomb in his stomach, the flames flashed through his entire body.

"AHHHHH!"

Dean jumped awake. His eyes flew opened. He screamed out a painful scream. He jumped to a seated position only to have the pain grow stronger and he tumbled unto the floor in front of him. His arms wrapped tightly around his abdomen. He couldn't breathe. He needed to breathe but couldn't catch his breath. He could only seem to take in short, shallow puffs of air. His head spun with the pain as the moans and groans followed the scream.

"Dean!" Sam was lounging on the chair near the couch and jumped into action as soon as Dean startled awake with a scream. He knelt beside his brother, wrapping his arm around his back. "Dean, it's okay, man."

Bobby rushed out from his study and was at Dean's side. "Dean, hey, I need you to talk to me. What's going on?"

Dean tried to suck in breaths of air through clenched teeth as he released one of his arms and reached up, grabbing for Bobby, after a couple tries he found his shoulder and grabbed a hold of his shirt, pulling himself upright and pressing his face into the man's chest.

"Hhhhurrrrttttssssss." Dean puffed out with a groan.

"Okay, Dean. It'll be okay. You gotta calm down, you hear me?"

The groans had turned to sobs. "Dad." Dean cried for his dad. The one person who wasn't there.

Bobby and Sam exchanged glances. "I'll go see if he wants to come down." Sam said with a sigh as he quickly made his way upstairs.

John had made his way back into the house after Dean fell asleep. He had slept for several hours before the pain hit him and startled him awake.

Sam knocked on John's door. "Dad?"

"Come in."

"Hey, so uh, Dean woke up…"

"Yeah, I heard."

"Yeah well, he's in a lot of pain and…"

"I gathered."

"Yeah. But, he's wanting you."

"Me?"

"Yeah."

"He doesn't want me."

"I mean, he's like… uh… crying for you? Well, really he's more sobbing in pain, but he's calling for you while he's doing it, so I told Bobby I'd see if you wanted to go downstairs and help with…"

"Bobby has it under control."

"Fine! Whatever! You know, this isn't about you right now! You can feel sorry about yourself all you want, but right now, this is about Dean. And you should be there for him, especially if he's asking for you."

"Sam." John was giving his son a warning.

"NO!" Sam shouted. "He's your son, damn it! You need to be there for him! I don't give a shit about what the hell you're feeling right now, he's feeling a lot too, and everything you've done, you need to make it right."

"Sam, I'm warning you, leave now."

"Why the hell are you even here? Huh? If you don't give a shit about your own kid then why the hell are you still sticking around?"

"Sam! No one said I don't give a shit about either of you."

"Well, the way you're acting says it all."

Before he realized what was happening John had sprung from his bed and pushed Sam out the doorway that he was standing in and had him pinned to the hallway wall. His forearm was pressed against Sam's throat, his other hand had a hold of Sam's shoulder.

"I said, to leave me the hell alone!" John shouted at Sam.

"Get the hell off me!" Sam shouted back, giving his dad a hard shove.

John stumbled and fell against the wall behind him. He had obviously decided to drown his sorrows in alcohol.

He pushed himself away from the wall and rammed himself into Sam. His shoulder making direct contact with his sternum, bringing the lad down to his knees as the air was forced out of him.

He grabbed John, throwing him to the floor beside him. In the process John had grabbed onto Sam's shirt, pulling him over with him. Sam delivered a couple punches to John's face to get him to release him. He then flipped himself off his dad.

John reached out and grabbed Sam's ankle, causing him to faceplant the floor, busting his nose causing blood to pour from it.

Downstairs, Bobby had left Dean long enough to get a glass of water and more pain pills. Once the water was guzzled down, he offered him a second glass he had already retrieved. Dean gladly accepted it.

"Feeling better?"

"A little, I guess." Dean stuttered the words between gasps of air. "I… I think it… it just took me by surprise."

"Yeah." Bobby agreed as he rubbed Dean's back to continue calming him.

The screams started coming from upstairs.

"Damn idjit." Bobby sighed.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"What did I do?"

"You didn't do anything, it's that stubborn ass old man of yours."

"Then, why does he hate me so much?"

"Dean, he doesn't hate you. He just has some things he's gotta deal with and some decisions he needs to make."

There were some shuffles coming from upstairs, followed by crashing sounds. Dean and Bobby both glanced at each other and rolled their eyes.

"Damn it, John Winchester!" Bobby cursed as he rose from his position. "I'll be back." He sighed to Dean, but Dean pushed himself from the floor and followed Bobby upstairs. The closer to the top of the stairs they got the quicker Dean seemed to move.

It was obvious by the sounds they were into a true fight and Dean needed to protect his brother from his dad. It wasn't even a thought. There was no thinking involved, there were no questions in the matter. This was something he had done his entire life. When Dad drank a little too much or became a little too angry. When Sam crossed that line with his attitude and stubbornness, Dean was there to protect his brother from their dad's wrath.

"Dad!" Dean shouted as he pushed his way passed Bobby and dropped at Sam's side.

Sam was only partly conscious, the fall on his face managed to partly knock him out. Dean saw the blood that was pouring from his brother's nose. But, John wasn't finished, not yet. He charged at Sam again, before Bobby was able to stop him. Dean moved in front of his brother and took the force of his dad, knocking him to the ground, flat on his back.

John had delivered a punch to the side of Dean's face. He had forgotten about his other injuries when he turned his face at the sight of his dad's fist. He cried out in pain as he punched the gashes left by the creature the day before.

"You're just a weakling, I always knew you were." John spit out the words at his oldest son. They were slurred and stunk of alcohol, but that didn't make them sting any less. "You always try to act so big and tough when really all you are is a faggot. You're not my damn son! My sons are real men!"

"Dad." Dean cried out, then a fist came in contact with his face again.

Bobby tried to pull at John's shoulders, to remove him from on top of his oldest son, but he had a hold onto Dean's shoulders, and the cry of pain when he was forced to put pressure on his ass when Bobby pulled John up was enough to make Bobby stop.

"Bobby." Dean puffed out. "Help Sammy."

Bobby moved to Sam, lifting him and moving him out of the way of danger. He gathered a rag and pressed it to Sam's nose.

"Sam, I need you to stay with me. I gotta go help Dean. Can you hold this? Keep pressure on it to stop the bleeding, okay?"

Sam did as he was instructed, still obviously not completely aware but enough he could follow directions.

"Is that what you want? Huh? You want me to fuck you? Is that the way you like it?"

Bobby stepped back out to hear those words being spit into Dean's face. Dean had tears running down his cheeks.

"Dddad, please." Dean begged.

He wasn't trying to protect himself from his dad's punches. He had his hands pressed against his dad's shoulders, trying to push him off, he was starting to panic having his dad on top of him, holding him down, talking about fucking him.

"Dad!" Dean cried out. "Please, Dad. Please." Dean sobbed.

John had a fist in the air above Dean's face, he had stopped short of hitting him.

"John." Bobby proceeded with caution, warning in his voice. "Think about what the hell you're doing."

Dean was breathing panicked breaths. "Dad. I'm sorry. I don't know what I did, but I'm sorry. Please, let me go, please. I don't want this. It isn't what I want. I'm sorry." Dean was getting desperate, begging and pleading with his dad.

"John, let the boy go, he hasn't done anything. This is something you need to deal with and leave him out of it."

John sighed, throwing his fist down, connecting it with the floor beside Dean's head. He rolled off Dean and laid on his back on the floor beside his son.

Dean breathed in a sigh of relief. He pushed himself away from his dad and attempted to push himself up the wall to sit. When the pain hit he decided it wasn't such a good idea and he laid back on his side.

"Dad?" Dean was so confused, and in so much pain.

"Dean. I don't deserve to be your dad, go find someone else, hell, even Bobby's better at it than I am." John slurred as he rolled over and pushed himself off the floor.

"Dad?" Dean repeated as he watched his dad disappear into his room and close the door behind him.


	54. Chapter 54

**CHAPTER 54**

Dean felt broken. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on. He tried to get up, to follow his dad. Bobby placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, stopping his movement.

"Let him go, he needs to sleep it off."

Dean nodded in agreement. "Sammy?"

"I moved him to safety. I'm sure he has a concussion and I don't know if his nose if broke or just busted. But, he'll be fine. You stay here, I'll go check on him."

Bobby stood and headed to the bathroom where he had carried Sam. He heard Dean grunting behind him. He smiled, knowing that no matter what may have happened in the past, Dean would always be there for his brother. He knew Dean wouldn't settle for staying where he was when his brother could need him.

Dean dropped to his knees beside where Sam sat. He was out of breath by the time he made it to Sam's side. He laid his head on Sam's shoulder to give himself a moment to rest. "You okay?" he huffed out as he lifted his head.

"You sound like you're worse than me." Sam mumbled.

Dean chuckled. "I'll live. What about you?"

"Concussion and busted up nose, nothing I haven't dealt with before."

"Yeah." Dean agreed but his heart still tore at him. "Sammy, I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I should have been there, to protect you better."

"Dean, in case you forgot, you're really not in any shape to worry about protecting anyone."

"Yeah, well, still, I should have been there for you."

"You were."

"Yeah, after you got hurt."

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "Like I said, nothing I haven't had before."

"Not from Dad."

"Dean, do you really think I'm that stupid? I know the way Dad is. I know how abusive he could be, especially when he's been drinking, and incase you missed the smell…"

"Oh, trust me, I didn't miss it."

"Yeah, well, that's typical drinking Dad behavior."

"I know." Dean sighed. "But, I've always been there to protect you from it."

"Yeah, but it's not like I didn't know when you came back into the room with bruises or barely able to walk that he hadn't beat the shit out of you."

"Better me than you."

"Not this time."

Dean sighed, laying his forehead back on Sam's shoulder. "I'm exhausted can we just call it a night?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, sounds good to me." Sam agreed.

"You good to sleep?" Bobby asked Sam as he helped him from the floor and checked his nose. The bleeding had stopped and Sam's eyes looked clearer, his pupils were even.

"Yeah, just got one hell of a headache, but I'll be fine." Sam replied after his inspection.

Bobby nodded. "Go down and take you something for pain, I'm sure you're gonna need it by morning, and hey, bring your brother something too."

Sam nodded and walked out of the bathroom. Dean's glass from earlier sat on the sink beside Bobby, he grabbed it and filled it with water.

"Thirsty?" He asked Dean.

Dean nodded and gladly accepted the glass of water that never seemed to last long enough. He remained on his knees and leaned his shoulder and head against the wall once the water was gone.

"Boy, you know we have plenty of water, right? It's not going anywhere, you can slow down on your drinking."

Dean didn't reply. He just continued to catch his breath and lean against the wall.

"You okay there?"

"Is that what Dad really thinks?"

"What he said to you? No, he doesn't think that at all. He's just as confused about everything as everyone else is, and he's not had time to deal with certain things. You just need to give him a little time, okay?"

Dean didn't answer he just used his shaking hand to push him onto his equally shaky legs.

"Lemme look at those punches." Bobby requested but Dean just turned away.

"I'm fine."

"How many times your dad hit you like this?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Boy, you got to stop protecting your brother like you do. He ain't a kid no more. I get it, he was injured and plum knocked out, he couldn't fight against your dad, but you've sheltered him way too much. It's time you start to worry about yourself."

"Bobby, you don't know how Dad can get when he's drunk."

"Boy, I know exactly how your old man gets when he's drunk. There's been several times you boys have been at my house when he's come back drunk and I refused to let him anywhere near either of you."

"Really?"

"Yes, really. Especially you. You've always been way too quick to jump at his commands."

"Yeah, well, they aren't that bad and if it keeps the peace…"

"See! That right there is what I'm talking about. Dean, it's okay if everything around you isn't peaceful. It's okay if your dad and brother duke it out."

"Like I said, you don't know how Dad can get…"

"Like I said, yes I do. I remember there was this one time. You were probably like 9 or 10. Your Dad came back from a hunt way too drunk to even drive here. You were instantly by his side. The same way you always were. You helped him up the stairs so he could sleep it off, only this time, you guys made it about 3 or 4 steps up and he turned, yelling at you that he didn't need your help. He pushed you away from him and you flew down the steps and landed hard on the floor. Your old man leaped from the steps and was beside you. He had a hold of your shirt collar and yelled at you, said some stuff like he was tired of looking at your face and ordered you to do 20 laps around the junk yard."

Dean shrugged. That sounded pretty normal to him.

"I grabbed you as you stood up and wrapped my arms around you. I told John you weren't going to do that. I told him to get his drunk ass to bed and I needed to check you over, make sure you weren't hurt. But, you squirmed in my arms. You started kicking and screaming and fighting against me. You were screaming about how you had to follow your dad's orders. How you had to do what you were told. As soon as I released you, you darted out the front door and started running."

"I don't remember that."

"Yeah, well, I do because I threatened your dad that day. I told him when he was here, he wasn't going to push you around like that. This was my house and he was going to abide by my rules."

"That's why we quit coming around so much?"

"Yeah, he didn't like my terms."

Dean nodded. "There was this one time, I was like 7 maybe, and Dad got back from a hunting trip and spent the night pulling a miller shift. He came back after Sam had already woke up. I was giving him breakfast, and Dad collapsed on the bed. So, I did what I always did. I made sure Sam was good then I went to help Dad. I removed his boots and started getting his clothes off. He… uh… he grabbed my arm. I remember I tried to pull away but couldn't because he was squeezing so tight. And he started screaming at me because I woke him up."

Dean wiped a hand down his face to dry the tears that had started falling.

"He grabbed his belt from his pants I had taken off and he pulled my pants down and put me over his knees. He started to take the belt to me. But… he… uh… he didn't stop. I don't know how long, it was like he zoned out or something. He… um… I remember I was sobbing and crying and even little Sammy came over and said something to Dad about making me bleed so much. He kept his arm across my back, holding me down so I couldn't get away."

"Did he stop when Sam said something?"

"No."

"So, when did he stop?"

Dean shrugged. "Not sure. Either I passed out or he did."

"And, Sammy?"

"I don't know. But, Dad wouldn't touch him. He loves him too much."

"Dean. Don't you see, you've put yourself in harms way your entire life to help others. It's time you worry about yourself. You need to worry about your own wellbeing. Whatever your dad does, that's up to him. He can stay or he can go. Doesn't matter. But, you're what matters right now."

"No!"

"What do you mean no?"

"I don't matter." Dean sighed. "I've never mattered, I don't know why you keep thinking I do."

Bobby shook his head. "Boy, you do matter. If you don't matter to anyone else in this world, you matter to me. You've always been like the son I never had, like the son I never knew I wanted. And, I just want to see the best for you. But, you putting yourself in harm's way to protect everyone else, that ain't what's best for you."

Bobby sighed, he knew nothing he said would matter. Dean would always see himself as a nobody and put his dad and Sam on the pedestal where they didn't belong.

"Dean, son, do me a favor. What time you're here. You use this time to take care of yourself. You worry about you. I'll worry about your dad and Sam, okay?"

Dean sucked his lips between his teeth and bit down on them. "Bobby, I'm not really sure what happened, but… I know what I feel, physically. I don't know if I got myself into another crappy situation, or if I willing got with someone, some guy, or guys. But, Dad seems really pissed and doesn't want to be anywhere around me. And, I don't know why the hell everyone keeps saying I want it that way, and asking if I like it. I don't, Bobby. I swear I don't."

"Dean. I know, okay. Your dad's just frustrated right now and will say anything without thinking. In a nutshell, you fought that creature and killed it. You don't have to worry about it anymore. But, it did get inside of you, and its poison, it burns, that's why you feel like you're on fire. But, you didn't do anything wrong. Your dad did. Sam did. But, not you. You hear me?"

Dean nodded his head, his eyes started drifting open and closed.

"How about we get you to bed before you pass out on the bathroom floor? We'll talk about this some more later."

"Yeah, okay." Dean replied and he used the wall to hold himself upright as he made his way from the bathroom to his room. He held his breath when he had to cross the hall to his room and was never so happy to have a doorframe waiting for him. "Change up furniture?" Dean noticed.

Sam had made his way back upstairs and stood behind Dean. "Yeah, didn't have much of a choice. But, on the plus side, you have a brand new bed with a nice comfy mattress."

Dean moaned in response.

"Here." Bobby said. "Take these, you'll need them." He handed out two pills and another glass of water. Dean gladly accepted them and drank the entire glass in one big long gulp.

He hadn't mastered laying down without first sitting, which was more pain than he was ready for. But he managed to deal with it long enough to fall to his side in a cry of pain.

"Take it easy, boy." Bobby reminded him.

Bobby handed Sam the glass and asked him to refill it for him. Sam left and did as he was requested.

Bobby helped Dean settle into bed. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Dean answered. He wasn't really sure if he was, but he knew it was the answer Bobby was wanting to hear.

"Don't forget, I'm right down the hall if you need anything at all. In fact, it wouldn't be the first time you've slept in there with me, if that's what you need, you got that?"

Dean gave a half smile and nodded. "Thanks, Bobby."

Sam returned with the water and handed it to Bobby. "Take it easy this time." He said as he helped Dean with the water. He pulled it away when Dean started gulping it too quickly, then gave it back once he had caught his breath. He handed it back to Sam except when he returned with it Bobby placed it on the dresser for later.

"You two get some sleep, it's been a long day for everyone. You know where I'm at if you need me." Bobby said as he turned out their light, leaving the door half opened so he could hear Dean better, just in case.

"Thanks, Bobby." Both brothers said in unison.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, nose hurts like hell, but it'll be fine."

Dean nodded.

"You?"

"Peachy!" Dean replied, not sure exactly how he was.

"Yeah, well, look, I'm sorry for… you know… everything."

"I don't know, Sam. Everything is a little fuzzy."

"Well, when you do remember, just know I'm sorry, okay?"

"Uh... yeah… okay…" Dean sighed.

He wished everyone wouldn't keep things so secret, but he understood. He had been in this place before and figured it was best for him to concentrate on what he did know and work on healing what he could. But, he wasn't completely sure what that was. Bobby had told him he fought and killed the creature, that's why he was in so much pain. That was a good thing. So, why would his dad be so upset. Bobby also said that he hadn't done anything wrong but his dad and Sam had hurt him.

He couldn't seem to wrap his head around that one. How the hell could, and did, Sammy hurt him. His dad he could see, but Sam? He closed his eyes, unaware that was his action of falling asleep. His mind still went nonstop, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

He saw the vision of Sam again. He was holding him down. Only, his eyes were covered and his mouth gaged and something was wrapped around his throat. He couldn't see anything, but he knew it was Sammy. He was standing outside of his body watching everything happen.

Sam rubbed himself against Dean, making them both hard. He could see it from this point of view. Sam kept asking him if he liked it. He was becoming more and more aggressive with the way he rubbed against Dean. When he looked at himself he could see the tears, he could feel the hurt and fear. He wanted his eyes uncovered, but Sam had a cloth wrapped around his wrists and held his hands above his head. Dean watched as Sam seemed to enjoy it far more than he should. He reached into Dean's pants and grabbed him. He fondled Dean as he rubbed himself against Dean's leg.

A sickening feeling overcame him as he watched the past take place in front of him. He watched as Sam tried to get Dean off. He was actually trying to jack him off! Dean hadn't realized it at the time, not with the fear and adrenaline that was rushing through him. But, Sam was trying to get himself off too. He kept rubbing himself against Dean, against the growing bulge he had created. He spoke to Dean like he was the only one reacting, but in truth Sam was guiltier than Dean.

When Dean shoved Sam to the floor and struggled to untie himself, Sam remained where he had fallen. He watched Dean struggle and choke himself. He watched him fight against the cloth that kept him blind and silent. And Sam. Sam reached into his own pants and finished himself off.

Once he was done, he got up and helped Dean untie the cloth around his head. And, Dean was gone. He was too scared and confused to stay in the room. He rushed to the only place he felt comfortable, to Bobby's room.

Then, the vision of the creature, the first time it had come to attack him in the room popped into his head. He didn't feel as much fear as he did the night with Sammy. But, it hurt worse. It actually got inside of him. That was something Sam didn't try to do. He wouldn't try to do that.

Then he flashed to something that he didn't remember. All the visions that had popped in his head he knew were real. He remembered them once he saw them, but this one. This one confused him. This one was new, it was real, no doubt, but still new.

He was in his dad's room. He was hurt from the first attack the thing made on him. They were talking around him about how he couldn't be alone while he slept. They were concerned for his safety. Everyone left, everyone but his dad since someone had to stay with him while he rested.

John grabbed a bottle of whiskey and downed the rest of the bottle while watching Dean in a restless sleep. He watched his every movement as he would slightly shift his body, trying to relieve the pressure and pain from the attack. He paid attention to every small moan and groan that Dean made.

He laid beside his son, stroking his hair in a loving way. "How bad does it hurt?" John questioned with a hint of mischief in his voice. Dean felt confused but also slightly drugged. John gave him a drink that he had poured for him. He noticed as he watched that the drink only made him feel more drugged and more confused. He could feel the world spinning around him.

"So…" John continued as he wrapped his arm around Dean and pulled his body closer. He reached his hand down the back of his pants and grabbed his ass. "You just gonna let everyone except your old man fuck you?" He asked as he rubbed and grabbed at him. He pushed his finger around the opening that had already been so damaged by so many men recently.

John's words were coated with the stench of alcohol. "You know, I've been with guys before. And damn, they feel good. Not as good as your mom, but still, sometimes if that's all you've got then you gotta make due." He pushed his finger inside of Dean.

Dean moaned.

"Shhh shhh. It's okay." John soothed him as he pushed a second finger inside, pulling them almost all the way out and then pushing them back in. An imitation of sex.

Dean stood as an outsider watching his own dad pull his pants down just far enough for the access he needed then pulling himself out of his own pants. He was already hard in his hand. He watched as his dad pushed himself inside of his own son. Dean squirmed and groaned in pain, but John kept a hold on him, keeping him from moving away.

He pushed Dean's face into the bed to muffle any sounds the faster and harder he went inside of him. John was enjoying it. He was really enjoying it. Dean was drugged by his dad. He was already in a bad place in his head and now his own dad was drugging and raping him.

He wanted to scream at his dad, tell him to stop. But, it was only a memory he was watching in front of him. Nothing he could say or do could stop what had already happened.

He could feel the pain the Dean in front of him was feeling. He could sense the tears that built in his eyes. The lack of oxygen that he needed. He felt as his dad finished off inside of him. His warm fluids mixing with the blood that was left behind.

John laid his head on the back of Dean's. He was panting, out of breath. "Damn, that was good." John mumbled into Dean's hair. He kept Dean's face pressed into the bed until he could feel his body go completely limp.

He couldn't risk Dean remembering or telling anyone what had just happened. He turned Dean's head to the side so he was able to breath again. He checked to make sure he was still breathing. He was. He was unconscious but not dead. John patted him on the back and stood to clean himself off.

Once he had finished cleaning himself he offered to change places with someone else. He didn't want to risk the chance of Dean waking to see him and remember anything. His dad was smart. He knew how to cover his tracks.

Dean let the tears run down his face as he watched. He wondered if this was the only time his dad had done something like this, or if it had happened before. He wondered if he had tried again but wasn't able to complete it and if that's why he was so upset at him.

He couldn't understand it. He couldn't see his dad ever doing anything like that to anyone, but especially to one of his sons. It didn't make sense. It didn't make sense that Sam had did what he done either.

What the hell was going on? Then, he was back in his room, watching the creature attack him again. He jammed the knife into it's skull. He could feel the pain as the thing swelled inside of him. He could feel every small stretch and tearing that happened.

Dean's eyes flew opened, his breathing labored. He woke with a panicked, painful scream as he pushed himself into the corner of the wall. His body shook. His stomach was turning flips, threatening to spill out.


	55. Chapter 55

**CHAPTER 55**

"Dean?" Sam jumped awake at his brother's scream. He tried to go to him, tried to comfort him. But, when he got close, Dean started screaming at him to get away. He started losing it.

Bobby heard the commotion and screams and rushed to the room. "Dean?"

He was cautious as he approached him. He reached out and pushed Sam out of the way, allowing Dean to calm slightly. "Dean, you okay?" Bobby asked.

"Dddddon'ttt touchhh mmmmme." He mumbled out through the tears and panicked breaths.

"Okay, I won't." Bobby said, raising both hands in the air to show them to Dean as he sat on the edge of his bed.

"I…iiii… I dddon't…" Dean looked around the room with fear filled eyes.

"Dean." Bobby spoke to get his attention back to him. "What ever you dreamt about, whatever you remembered, we need to talk about it, okay?"

Dean shook his head nonstop as fast as he could.

"Okay, okay." Bobby spoke with calmness. "We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to."

Dean looked at Bobby with fear filled wild eyes.

"Iiiit… it's dead?" He asked hesitantly.

"Yeah." Bobby answered. "It's dead."

"Dddidd… iss… Dad… Sam… is everyone else… better too?"

"Huh?" Bobby was confused by that statement and glanced over at Sam. Sam only gave him a shoulder shrug. He wasn't sure what Dean was talking about either.

"Thhh… the thing... iiit got to Dad and Sam too?"

"Uh… Dean? What makes you say that?"

"bbbecause… because… they… both… they hhhurt…" Dean looked over at Sam. Confusion settled into his mind. Then he looked at Bobby equally confused.

"You remember what Sam did to you?"

Dean nodded. "I saw it… like I was standing… like… outside of my body… watching it… I remember and… I saw things I didn't know… didn't remember."

Sam closed his eyes. He knew what Dean was talking about and shame filled him.

"Dean, I'm sorry. I… I don't know what to say. I…" Sam dropped his head as his voice trailed off.

"I… I don't wanna… uh… I don't wanna talk about it right now." Dean sucked his bottom lip in and chewed on it in a nervous way.

"Okay." Bobby patted the side of Dean's shoulder. "You don't have to do anything you don't feel comfortable with."

Dean nodded. His breathing was calmed but still heavy. He sat on his knees in the back corner of his bed, the walls supporting him. He had pulled his covers with him, holding onto them tightly over his chest.

"How about you lay back down and get you some more sleep?" Bobby suggested.

Dean glanced at the glass on the dresser.

"You want some more water?"

Dean nodded and Bobby handed the glass to him. He grabbed it with both hands, still slightly shaky, and guzzled the water until it was gone.

"I'll get some more." Sam volunteered as he left his bed and took the glass from Bobby.

"You sure you're okay?" Bobby asked as soon as Sam was out of the room.

Dean gave a shoulder shrug. "Bobby, he… uh… he…" Dean stopped and just shook his head.

"I know." Bobby sighed.

"Not all of it."

"You can tell me when you're ready if you want. But I think the best thing for you right now is some more sleep."

"Okay."

Sam returned and handed the glass to Bobby who passed it to Dean. After he finished it Bobby handed it back to Sam.

"Put it on the dresser this time." He instructed.

Sam nodded and left the room again.

"You wanna sleep in my room again?" Bobby questioned.

Dean look slightly embarrassed when he asked.

"Hey." Bobby reached over and gently lifted Dean's chin so he was looking at him again. "It's okay if you do. I don't even have to stay in there. I can sleep in here with Sam if that's what you want."

"I don't wanna be alone." Dean was barely able to get the words out loud enough to be heard.

"Okay. So, is that a yes to my room?"

Sam stood behind Bobby. Dean looked up at him with a look of apology.

"Hey." Sam said gently. "A lot has happened in this room. You might have a different bed, but that doesn't change what happened in here. It's okay. I understand if you're not ready to stay in here yet."

"I'm okay." Dean said in a defeat as he lowered his head.

"No, you're not!" Sam disagreed.

"I'm fine. Leave me alone." Dean sounded so broken as he pushed himself from the corner and bundled under his covers. He turned his back to the others.

"Alright." Bobby sighed as he gave Dean's back a gentle rub. "If you need me, you know where I'm at."

Sam returned to his bed and Bobby left, turning off the light and pulling the door half closed.

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"I really am sorry. I know that doesn't make anything better. But, I am."

Dean shifted and turned to his other side so he was looking at Sam.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Why what?"

"Why did you do it?"

"I… I don't know. I mean. It started as Dad's idea. It was supposed to be some stupid training thing, to prepare you to be able to act and do what you needed when the thing attacked you again. But, I don't know, it's like… like something else took over. I mean, I knew what I was doing, but I didn't want to, not really. I couldn't stop myself, so I don't know, maybe I did?"

"I don't think you did."

"You said you saw everything, from the outside?"

"Yeah."

"Then you know what I did?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Then how the hell could you say that?"

"Because, first, no matter how much you may be pissed at me you would never hurt me, not like that. And, second, you would never get off on it, not if you were in your right mind."

"Dean. I don't know what to say. I mean. I…"

"Sam." Dean stopped his brother from talking anymore. "I don't think you were in your right mind. I think it had something to do with that thing."

"I don't know Dean. I mean… I don't know."

"Do you want me now?"

"What? NO!"

"You sure? I'm weak right now. Injured. You could take advantage of that, do whatever the hell you wanted."

"Dean! Eww! NO! I said I didn't want you, okay! Why would you even say something like that?"

"Because, if you don't want me now, if what I just said didn't get you going, then I don't see how you could possibly think you were… well, you… when you did what you did."

"Dean. You're way too forgiving."

Dean shrugged. "I just call it as I see it, and that's the way I see it. Besides, you're not the only one it got a hold of, so don't be too hard on yourself."

"Dude! I molested you, almost raped you, and got off on it, how the hell am I not supposed to be hard on myself?"

"Because it wasn't completely you. Now, go to sleep, I'm exhausted."

"Dean."

"Sam." Dean's voice held a warning that he was done discussing it for the night.

"Yeah, night Dean."

"Night Sam."

"Dean?"

"Yeah?"

"You gonna be able to sleep?"

"I don't know."

"It's okay if you want to go to Bobby's room. You've spent several nights in there with him. I guess, you've been feeling safe with him, and I really don't think he minds it."

"Yeah. Maybe later."

"Okay. Night."

"Night."

Sam adjusted himself and closed his eyes. It didn't seem to take long before Sam's light snores were filling the empty darkness that surrounded Dean.

The longer he laid there, the darker the space around him seemed to become. And, the heavier the air was. He could feel the wetness of the tears as they dripped across his face and landed on the pillow under his head. He had a lot going on inside his head. He knew things weren't right. He knew he had a lot to deal with, and Sam was just one thing in a whole list.

Panic rose in him as his mind swirled around. He jumped from the bed and rushed to the bathroom, dropped to his knees and hugged the toilet bowl.

Bobby heard Dean rush into the bathroom and heard him vomit. He got up to check on him. He lowered himself beside Dean and rubbed his hand over Dean's back.

His vomit turned to sobs and cries.

"It's okay." Bobby calmed him as he rubbed his hand across his back.

Dean turned from the toilet and wrapped his arms around Bobby, grabbing tightly to the back of his shirt. He buried his face in the old man's chest and allowed himself to release everything he was feeling inside.

Bobby just sat there, holding onto Dean tightly, allowing him this moment of weakness. Once Dean had calmed enough he allowed Bobby to help him to his room. He laid on Bobby's bed, too exhausted and broken to even care. Bobby covered him, giving him a glass of water to help comfort him.

"It's okay. You're safe in here. No one is going to hurt you as long as I'm right here. Sleep. Boy, you've had a long couple of days, you need to rest and heal."

Dean closed his eyes. He knew he didn't need to fight against anything anymore. He could feel the comfort and safety that Bobby offered. In a matter of minutes Dean's restful breathing filled Bobby's ears. With a smile Bobby turned out the light and laid beside Dean, allowing himself to fall asleep too.

Morning came and Bobby woke to notice Dean was still asleep. He rolled out of bed and stretched his weary bones. He quietly left the room, closing the door behind him, and checked on Sam who was starting to wake too.

"How's Dean?" Sam mumbled still half asleep.

"Still sleeping."

Sam nodded, glad to hear his brother was getting the rest he needed. "He do okay last night?"

"Yeah, after he finished throwing up and having a breakdown, he hasn't moved a muscle."

"Good." Sam replied.

Bobby nodded and headed downstairs. Sam got up and showered, putting on some clean clothes. He had to stop himself from checking on his brother. He wasn't sure if he even had the right to worry about him. Instead, Sam headed downstairs to where Bobby was preparing breakfast.

"Need help?"

"No, I got this."

Sam stood near the door, shuffling his feet, feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. Bobby noticed but didn't reply on it.

"I smell bacon." Dean's voice was rough sounding.

Sam and Bobby were both shocked to see him make his way downstairs on his own.

"And pancakes?" Dean added with a smile.

"Yeah, kid, breakfast's about done."

"Great!" Dean said with a grin, giving a gentle slap to the back of Sam's shoulder. "I'm starving!"

"I'd say so, I don't know when the last time you ate was." Bobby replied as he sat the dishes of food on the table. "Must've been days, maybe a week or more since you've really ate anything."

"I feel it too." Dean chimed in, pulling at Sam's arm, forcing his brother to sit at the table with them and eat.

Dean hissed and jumped when he sat at the table, he was still hurting but had forgotten about it until he went to sit down. He closed his eyes and groaned as he adjusted his body weight to relieve the pressure.

"Where's Dad?" Dean asked with innocence.

"Uh…" Bobby hesitated. "Not sure, his room I reckon."

"He not coming for breakfast?" Dean questioned as he shoveled in a mouthful of food.

"I wouldn't think so."

Sam just kept his head lowered, he looked sheepishly through his lashes at the conversation taking place in front of him.

"Eat up, Sammy." Dean said, still appearing to be in an uplifted mood. "You need to get some meat on them bones, and bacon'll help!" he said as he picked up a piece and dangled it above his own mouth, opening wide and slurping it in.

Sam just rolled his eyes and shook his head at his brother's childish behavior. But, he did as Dean requested and started eating the food in front of him.

There wasn't much conversation that took place, Dean was too busy shoving food in his mouth and Bobby and Sam returned glances at each other, wondering what was up with the sudden change in Dean.

"You feeling alright, boy?" Bobby finally asked.

"Yeah, I feel great, why?"

"No reason, just wondering."

Dean ignored the glances from the other two. He ignored their questionable looks. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to act or what he was supposed to be doing at this point, so he figured acting like himself was his best bet. Sure, he felt uncomfortable, but he would never let them know that.

"Think Dad would want a plate?" Dean asked as he finished up his own food.

Bobby and Sam, both a little shocked at Dean's question, were speechless.

Dean looked back and forth between the two of them, his eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. When it was clear he wasn't going to get one, he created his own answer.

"Guess I'll make him a plate and find out." Dean said as he started loading left over food onto a plate.

"You think that's a good idea?" Bobby questioned.

"Well, he can't live in his room on a liquid diet, now can he?" Dean replied as he picked up the plate and started walking to the stairs.

"Want one of us to go with you?" Sam asked.

"No, I got this." Dean replied. His heart was pounding but his voice remained even and calm. He needed to talk to his dad alone anyhow, so he figured this would be as good of a time as any.

He drew in a deep breath as he reached his dad's door. He calmed his trembling hands and knocked gently on the door.

"What?" John's gruff voice came from the other side of the door.

Dean cautiously opened the door. "Thought maybe you'd like some breakfast?" He said sheepishly as he moved into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Not hungry." John sighed.

Dean slid himself across the wall and sat the plate on the dresser. "In case you change you mind." He commented as he sat it down.

He stood, his back against the wall, and shuffled his feet.

"Got something you wanna say?" John questioned.

"I… uh… yeah." Dean's voice trembled.

"Well, spit it out."

"I… had this… uh… dream. Only, it was like real stuff but I was standing on the outside of my body, watching everything happen."

"Okay, and?"

"And, I didn't know, I didn't remember until I watched it happen, I'm not even completely sure if it was real or not."

"It was. Is that all you needed?"

"Dad. I was wondering… um… is that what you really wanted?"

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean. Me. Do you want me? Like that?"

"Damn, Boy, you're my son. Of course I don't want you in that way."

"Then, why? Why'd you do it?"

"I don't know. Because I'm a shitty dad, is that what you want to hear?"

"No sir."

"Then what?"

"I want to hear the truth."

John sighed. "Look, I don't know what came over me, okay? I mean. I've never looked at you, or even thought of you in that way. It was just, I'm not even sure, it was like the opportunity was there and I took it. I can't tell you why."

"I… I think I know why."

"You do, huh? So, tell me, why the hell am I the world's shittiest dad?"

"You're not! But, I think that creature, somehow it got a hold of you and Sam. And, I don't know, somehow got inside your heads or something, and somehow made you do things you didn't want to."

"Hmmm. So, you're going to just pass this off on some monster?"

Dean shrugged. "I mean, both, you and Sam? Don't you think there's something not right about that?"

"Yeah, I guess so. I… I knew about Sam… but, does he know about me?"

Dean shook his head. "No."

John nodded.

Dean stepped closer to his dad. "You don't know everything about Sam."

"What do you mean? He told us he didn't rape you."

"He didn't. But, he did… uh… he got off on what he did."

John raised his eyebrows in shock. "He did?"

"Yeah. Now do you see what I mean about something not being right?"

"Yeah. I guess. But, how do you know your brother wasn't just aroused?"

"Because, I asked him."

John nodded, not surprised by his son's outright honesty and willingness to make things right.

"Do you want me now?" Dean asked as he carefully rested a hip on the bed beside his dad. He had remembered this time not to completely sit all the way down.

John shook his head. "Son, I have never wanted you like that."

"What about now?"

"Hell no! The thought of what I did to you, it makes me sick."

"Is that why you stay in your room drinking?"

"Yeah." John replied as he gave Dean's knee a pat and rested his hand on Dean's leg.

Dean's heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest as he looked down at his dad's hand on his leg. Fear filled him as he thought about what he could do, what he had done, with his hand on him. But, on the outside he remained calm.

"Dad. If you don't want me now, then doesn't that make you think maybe you didn't want me then? Maybe something else was like controlling your mind?"

"Maybe, son. I don't know. I'm so confused about everything right now."

"Yeah, me too." Dean sighed.

"How you feeling?" John asked, looking up at his son, really looking, for the first time since he walked into the room.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. Confused. Still hurts like a bitch. But, okay, I guess."

"You get any sleep last night?"

"After I woke from a nightmare and threw up and had a breakdown on Bobby? Yeah, you?"

John chuckled slightly. "After I drank myself to unconsciousness? I didn't have much of a choice."

Dean smiled back at his dad. "We good?"

"Yeah, we're good." John sighed.

"You sure? I mean, if I did something…"

"Dean." His dad cut him off. "You didn't do anything wrong. Stop thinking that."

"Yes sir." Dean lowered his head as if he had just been scolded by his dad.

"Dean, son. Look at me." John ordered and Dean obeyed. "I'm sorry. I know this hasn't been easy on you. And, what I did is un excusable. If you want me out of your life I'd understand."

"Why would I want you out of my life?"

"I haven't exactly been the best father."

"And, I haven't exactly been the best son."

John patted Dean's shoulder. "You've been one hell of a son, more than I could have ever asked for. A hell of a lot more than I deserve."

Dean just shrugged and looked sheepish at his dad. Yes, he enjoyed hearing his dad say good things about him, but he didn't think he was anyone special. He was only himself, and that wasn't anyone out of the ordinary. He always just did what he had to in order to make his life as comfortable as he could. If that meant being the bigger man and forgiving someone for their wrong doing, then that's what he would do.

Dean would never see himself anything but ordinary. No matter how much good he did, no matter how strong he was, he was no one the world needed to know. He was no one worth worrying over. He sure wasn't anyone that deserved tears from other people. He never liked when other people fussed and worried over him.

"How about that breakfast you brought up here?" John changed the mood in the room. "Sure smells good."

"Yeah." Dean leaped up and got the plate for his dad. "Bobby sure knows his way around the kitchen."

"He'll make someone a good wife one day." John chuckled as he forked the food in his mouth.

Dean laughed at his dad's comment and for a moment everything felt right. Everything felt normal. For a moment Dean believed it would all be okay.


	56. Chapter 56

**CHAPTER 56**

Dean seemed to rest on and off the remainder of the day. John had come out of his room and interacted with the others after his talk with Dean. He decided he needed to be there for his son, and in order to do that he had to sober up.

Dean had gone from being okay, to needing something to stop the pain, to being okay again. He seemed to be fluctuating through the day. His mood would go from being uplifted to depressed and then somewhere in between. Everyone could tell he was trying hard to keep himself from collapsing.

Dean was resting on the couch while Bobby and Sam were in the office area working on some things for another hunter. John was relaxing in the chair near the couch when Dean suddenly gasped for air and shot himself up from the couch. His eyes wide and panicked, his body trembled and his breathing was as fast as his heartbeat.

He fell to his knees. His dad was there to catch him and ease him to the floor. He wrapped his arms tightly around his son as Dean buried his face in his dad's chest. He was mumbling incoherent words that became muffled in John's chest.

 _Dean's dream started out as an okay dream. There was nothing special about it either way. He had fallen asleep after taking some pills for the pain he was feeling. He had been trying so hard to not show the pain he was in, but at times, it became more than he could handle._

 _He tried to keep things positive. He tried to keep himself positive. God, he felt like he was falling apart. He felt like he was crumbling inside of his own skin. He had felt that way before. Long before this._

 _He had felt that way when he was younger. He would fight and fight. He tried so hard to keep everything going the way it should after his mom died. He tried so hard to raise his baby brother, even though he was just a kid himself. He tried to keep his dad taken care of too. But, it was too much for him. He couldn't handle it all. No matter how hard he tried he always seemed to mess something up._

 _John would get so mad at him. He would scream and yell._

" _Why the hell can't you do anything right?" "What the hell is wrong with you, boy?" "If your mom was here she would be so disappointed."_

 _He never let anyone see the tears he cried. He mostly cried them all internally, but sometimes he had time alone, like when he took his showers, and he would release the tears he held in. He felt like a complete failure. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried he always screwed things up._

 _His dad was such a hero in his eyes. He would leave to fight a battle that no one knew anything about. He would slay the monsters. When he came home he was always wrecked. Dean tried to take care of him._

" _It'll be okay, Dad." "You killed it, so it won't hurt anyone else, you're a savior." "I'm proud of you!" "You did good, Dad. I'm sorry that you're so upset. I love you."_

 _He always made sure Sam was well behaved, especially when their dad was around. No matter what John asked of him he would do it without question. He wanted his dad to be as proud of him as he was of his dad. But, no matter how much he did, he never heard the words he searched for._

" _I'm proud of you, son." Were the only words he ever wanted to hear._

" _Get packed! We're heading out, now!" John shouted at Dean as he rushed into the motel room in the middle of the night. John had been gone for a week on a hunting trip. He wasn't due back for 2 more days, but instead, he came back early and in a rush._

 _Dean rubbed his little eyes as he tried to wake up and make sense of what was going on. Sam laid between him and the wall, he was only 3 so he didn't wake as easily as Dean did. But, still, Dean was only 7. He was still so young himself._

 _John grabbed his oldest son by the arm and yanked him out of bed, harshly slamming him onto his feet. "I said now!" He shouted._

" _yy..yes sir." Dean replied as he rushed to obey his dad. It only took 5 minutes and they were packed and heading down the road. Sam was buckled in his car seat sleeping and Dean was sitting beside him._

" _Where are we going?" Dean asked._

" _Not sure, just getting away from there."_

" _Why?"_

" _Shut up! No one told you to ask so many questions!"_

" _Yes sir."_

 _Dean never did find out the reason for them rushing away from that town in the middle of the night. But, after that, John decided it was time to start training Dean how to hunt. He started by getting him in physical shape. He would make him run miles. He taught him the proper way to do pushups and sit ups and made him do them daily. He would take him to an empty playground. While Sam played Dean had to use the bars to do chin ups and climb his way up the poles. If he didn't do it properly he was sent to run some more as a punishment._

 _He was threatened with the belt to do his training while his dad was away on hunting trips. The first time, he had dragged Dean into the bathroom and pulled his pants down, sitting on the toilet he pushed Dean over his lap and for no reason at all he brought the belt down on his backside. Dean muffled his cries of pain with each smack of the belt._

 _John stood him up in front of him, each hand grasping hard onto his shoulders. "You've better do your training while I'm gone, do you understand me?"_

" _Yes sir." Dean sniffled out._

" _If you don't…" John pulled him back over his knees. "This will be a lot worse when I get back!" He said as he struck his son with his belt a few more times before allowing him to get up and pull his pants back up._

" _Yes sir." Dean sniffled again._

 _John pushed him out the door and back into the motel room where Sammy was playing. He knew Dean was afraid of the belt. He knew that was the one thing that could strike fear in the boy faster than anything. And, he used it against him as much as he could._

" _Dean okay?" Sammy asked._

" _Yeah, I'm fine." Dean plastered on his smile and knelt beside his brother._

 _It wasn't easy to find the time to take care of a preschooler and do the training his dad wanted, but he somehow managed to do it. He would put Sam on his back and he would run his miles with the added weight. He would do pushups with Sam sitting on his back and sit ups with his brother laying on his legs or across his stomach._

 _When Dad returned Sam would tell him all about how much fun he had sitting on Dean and riding on his back like a fast horse. Dean would sit shyly while Sam blabbered on._

 _Dean learned at a young age that he had to make himself happy. He had to force a smile to stay on his face. He had to make himself laugh even if he didn't feel like it. He had to find something, no matter how small, to find enjoyment in. He learned how to find the silver lining, how to keep the peace, how to find the good that was mixed in so much bad._

 _If he didn't then he would be an emotionless blob. He would live in the depressed world that he always seemed to be pulling himself out of._

 _Then, he remembered his dad beating on him when he returned home to find he had abandoned his brother in the middle of the night. He remembered the time he had to shy away from Bobby so he wouldn't know his dad had hurt him. Sure, John blamed it on a hunting accident. Bobby gave him an earful about taking him out on hunts so young, but even though he had been hunting with him, that's not what the injury was from._

 _He messed up on the hunt. He wasn't paying attention. He froze up when he should have acted. He could have gotten himself killed. Thankfully, John was there to kill the monster that was about to pounce on his son. With the fear and adrenaline pumping through his blood, he grabbed Dean by the arm and flung him to the ground. His boot stomped on his tender ribcage four times before he stopped._

 _Dean curled into a ball and sobbed. John grabbed his arm and pulled him off the ground, swinging him around so hard that his bones under his dad's grip cracked. Dean released a loud scream of pain that only got him a punch to the side as John dropped him onto the ground._

 _It was his own fault, he knew it. So, he suffered through the pain. He never said anything to anyone, not even his dad. He took care of himself. It didn't stop him from caring for his family. It didn't stop him from doing what he needed to make the money to feed his brother._

Dean gasped awake, moving himself as far away from the memories as he could. Someone was there. His dad. His dad was there. Why? His dad hated him, but he was there, holding him, comforting him. It felt so good to be in his dad's arms.

He cried. There was no way his dad would ever be proud of him with him crying the way he was. But, he still cried.

"I got you, Dean. It's alright." John soothed.

Dean leaned into it. He knew it was childish, he knew his dad would hate him even more, but Dean needed this. He needed this more than he needed his dad to be proud.

"Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"I'm sorry."

"You haven't done anything wrong. I'm the one who needs to be sorry."

"I failed you, as a son."

"No, Dean, no you haven't!"

"I've only made you disappointed in me."

John grabbed his son's face and pulled it away from him so they could look at each other. Dean's eyes were red and swollen. He had tears rushing down his cheeks and snot running from his nose. John wiped his son's face clean.

"Dean, listen to me, you have not been a disappointment, you hear me? Son, I'm proud of you! I'm so proud of the man you've become. You're more than I could have ever imagined you'd be."

"yyyyou're proud? Of me? Even after everything?"

"Yeah, yeah I am."

The tears rushed faster from Dean's eyes.

"I love you, son." John said as he pressed Dean's face back to his chest and wrapped a tight hold around him.

Dean just sobbed. That's all he could do was sob. At the moment he thought he was nothing but a disappointment. At the moment he was crying into his dad's chest. He heard the words he needed the most at this moment in time. His dad was proud of him! And, he loved him! Even after everything he had been through, even after so much display of weakness. But, all he could do was cry.

Dean wrapped his arms around his dad and just cried into his chest as hard as he could. Bobby and Sam both stood back, allowing the much needed moment to happen.

"You will never be a disappointment to me." John mumbled into the top of Dean's head.

Dean replied by tightening his hold onto his dad.

Once Dean had calmed and the tears turned to hickuped sniffles John placed one hand behind Dean's back and one arm under his legs and lifted his son from the floor. He laid him gently back on the couch. He sat on the floor beside him. Dean cracked his eyes half opened in a sleepy daze.

John brushed Dean's hair from his forehead. "Sleep now." He said quietly. "You need to rest and heal, so you can feel better. I'll be right here when you wake up."

Dean moved his hand and placed it on his dad's arm as he closed his eyes. "Dddon't wannaaa dream." Dean mumbled.

"It's okay. I'm right here if you have another nightmare."

"Nnnnooooo." Dean tried to resist the urge to fall asleep. "Ccccan't… don't wannnaaa drrream."

"Dean, you need to rest son. It'll be okay. We'll deal with whatever comes, okay?"

"Hhhhhuuurrrtttssss." Dean mumbled as his body gave into the fight and he drifted to sleep.

"I know son, I know. There's been a lot in your life that's hurt. But, we're going to fix that. You'll see, we'll fix it." John said softly to his sleeping son.

Bobby placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I've messed him up, Bobby. I've messed him up so badly." John sighed, not removing his watch over Dean.

"He'll be fine, as long as you stick around long enough to see for yourself."

"How? How the hell can I stick around? You don't know what I've done to him."

Bobby sat in the chair John once sat in. "Dean said something about you and Sam both hurt him. And, he's convinced the creature had something to do with it. He won't tell me anything though. He said there's more to the incident with Sam too that he won't talk about."

Bobby looked over at Sam who had sat in the chair across from him.

"The thing is, it doesn't matter if I know or not. Dean knows and you both know what you've done. You need to make sure you make it right. Not for yourselves but for Dean."

"I raped him." John said flat out.

"What?" Bobby was shocked.

"Dad?" Sam wasn't sure if he had heard him right.

"I don't know why. I'm not sure what came over me. But I did, okay. So, tell me, how the hell am I supposed to stick around after doing that to my own son?"

"By doing exactly what you're doing now." Bobby rubbed his hand down his face. He couldn't believe he was having this conversation.

"He came to me." John continued. "He brought up the conversation with me, this morning, when he brought me breakfast. The damn kid is so forgiving! He doesn't blame me. He should, but he doesn't. He says that thing somehow got into my head and made me do the things I did. But, I knew what I was doing. Sure, I've never wanted that from him before, and I still don't. He says that proves it wasn't really me."

John shook his head.

"Makes me mad as hell! He should hate me! He shouldn't want to even be around me, but he isn't even mad. He forgives me!" John was frustrated. What he thought he should be feeling wasn't what he was feeling at all.

"Dean has always sacrificed himself for the both of you." Bobby started. "He has put his own feelings to the side to make sure you two were okay. This is no different. But, yes, he's too damn forgiving. You're his weakness. But, you're also the thing that keeps him going when he doesn't have it in him. He doesn't deserve the life he's been given, but he'll never see things that way. He'll never see how special he is. It's your job as his dad and brother to show him."

He looked back and forth at the two men in front of him.

"Right now, Dean needs you both to put your feelings to the side and make sure he's okay. Because, no matter what he says right now, he's not okay. He's far from being okay. He's crumbling on the inside, you can see it in his eyes, and he needs help. He needs someone to help hold him together, to put the pieces back together. And, I don't give a damn what either of you have done to him before this moment right now. That's all in the past and you need to stop your pity parties and take care of him. You need to worry more about how those situations made him feel, not how they make you feel."

Bobby stood in frustration and started walking out of the room.

"You damn idjits, you'd think you'd learn this crap by now." He mumbled as he walked away.

Silence filled the air, neither Winchester knew what to say after that. Time passed in silence and stillness until Dean started getting restless. He tossed his body slightly and mumbled some things neither of them could understand.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm right here." John reassured him.

"Dad?" Dean mumbled.

"Yeah?"

"Water?"

John chuckled. "Yeah sure."

Sam got up and got his brother a glass and handed it to their dad.

John placed a hand under Dean's head and helped raise it. He kept his other hand on the glass to help keep it stable. "Easy." John reminded him as his hands shook and he started to quickly guzzle the water down.

Dean rolled his eyes in the back of his head and let his head go limp in his dad's hand when he finished. He had let go of the glass, if not for John holding onto it, it would have fallen on Dean's chest when he released it.

"Want more?"

Dean nodded.

"Okay." John held the glass up and Sam retrieved some more water.

Dean guzzled it down just as quickly.

"More?" Dean asked hopeful that his dad would say yes.

"Dean? Are you that thirsty?" John questioned.

Dean just nodded his head as he let it go limp in his dad's hand again.

"One more." John said as he held the glass back up.

"Just gimme the water hose." Dean mumbled jokingly.

John chuckled. "I don't think so, you'll make yourself sick for sure."

"No I won't."

"Here, take it easy." John said as he lifted Dean's head to the glass again.

He didn't take it easy. He guzzled it down just as quickly.

"I won't get sick, I promise." Dean practically begged.

"Dean, you need to take it easy."

"Dad? Sam interrupted.

"What?"

"Have you noticed how he hasn't even used the bathroom since he… you know… killed the thing? With the exception of when he had the seizure. Maybe he is that dehydrated?"

John looked over his son's pale features. "If you get sick on me Bobby's gonna have my ass!" John warned Dean.

"Not gonna be sick." He assured him.

John nodded at Sam and he retrieved the largest glass he could find, it was one like they have at the hospitals, the big plastic ones that always sit on the table in the rooms full of ice water. He filled it and put a straw in it to make it easier for his brother.

It didn't take any time at all before Dean had the glass emptied and was asking for more.

"One more, that's it for now." John was stern in his voice.

Dean nodded and emptied the glass again. He looked as if he was finally starting to feel some relief.

"When can I have more?" He questioned as soon as he finished the second large glass.

Bobby had walked back into the room. "You still that thirsty?" He questioned.

Dean nodded his head, not even attempting to open his eyes.

"How you feeling?"

"Not sick if that's what you're asking."

"Alright, if you want some more water then we'll get you some more." Bobby sighed, giving Sam a nod of approval to refill the glass.

Three more large glasses later and Dean had seemed to relax some. He didn't ask for more. His stomach was starting to react to the sudden intake of water and he was afraid if he drank anymore he would start feeling sick. But he still wanted more. It was helping to take the burning away. It helped with the pain and dryness inside.

However, they did notice that Dean's color was starting to come back to him and he was looking a little more lively.

"Want more?" John asked.

Dean shook his head. "Wait. If I get sick Bobby's gonna be pissed."

They all three had a chuckle over that.

"Need to use the bathroom yet?" John questioned.

Dean shook his head again. It was like it was all going to the flames inside of him and nothing was touching his bladder yet.

John looked up at Bobby concerned. "There is no way he's that dehydrated."

"Yeah, I know." Bobby replied as he made his way around to kneel beside John. "What's going on, kid? Talk to me."

"About what?"

"You've drank enough water you should be swimming right now."

"It helps put the flames out." Dean still hadn't made an effort to open his eyes while talking.

"Are they out?"

Dean shook his head. "Not all the way. Not yet."

"They better?"

"Yeah. But, when I stop. They just work at coming back. Like a real fire would or something."

"If you get sick, and throw up, does it make it worse?"

Dean shook his head. "Doesn't even feel like it's going to my stomach."

John sighed. "Okay, drink up then. Get rid of it. Make sure it's all out."

Dean cracked open an eye.

"Make sure there's a puke bucket nearby just in case." Bobby added.

"Here." John said placing the straw to Dean's lips. "Want more?"

Dean nodded and guzzled the water as fast as the straw would let him. Another four large glasses down and he laid his head down, exhausted. His body went limp.

"You good?" John asked.

Dean just squeezed his eyes closed tighter.

"Still burning?"

"Little."

"Then you need to finish taking care of this. Don't let it come back."

Dean sighed. He rolled his head over and opened his eyes half way to look at his dad who held the newly filled glass of water in his hands.

Exhausted, Dean nodded his head, knowing his dad was right. He drank slower this time. It took a bit of effort for him to finish the glass.

"Mm good." He mumbled as he looked around the room in a daze, his mouth hung half opened and his eyes were half closed. He looked like someone who was drugged. But, they all knew he wasn't.

"The burning gone?" Bobby asked.

Dean nodded slightly as his eyes rolled all the way to the back of his head and his head dropped hard onto the arm of the couch. His face tightened with his jaw and he released a loud cry of pain as he curled himself into a ball, his arms tight around his stomach.


	57. Chapter 57

**CHAPTER 57**

Dean curled into himself with a loud scream of pain. The scream slowly lost its strength with exhaustion as his body stiffened. He started vomiting. There was no point in the bucket since his head was resting on the couch and he wasn't able to lift it on his own.

Bright green started pouring from his mouth. Dean groaned in pain between breaths as the green liquid burned his insides as it made its way up and out. It sizzled on the couch where it pooled at his face, like acid.

"What the hell?" John asked in shock.

"Don't ask me." Bobby stated. "But we need to get this cleaned off him before it burns a hole through his face."

Carefully they wiped away the liquid off his face and kept clean towels between Dean and the acid like liquid as it pooled around him. They pulled Dean over so his head hung off the couch and the vomit landed into the bucket instead. They could hear it sizzle at it hit the bottom of the pale.

Dean gasped for air as the liquid burned his throat and mouth. He tried to cry in pain, tried to groan and release what he was feeling, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything but gasp for air as the green vomit forced its way out of him. He coughed and gagged on it as he tried to breathe.

The vomit stopped pouring from his mouth after what seemed like a lifetime and his head went limp against his dad's hand where he was giving it support.

His breath was ragged and sounded painful.

"Dean?" John gave his son's head a small shake. But, it appeared he had passed out.

"Let him sleep." Bobby said as he helped pull him back onto the couch and in a more comfortable position. Sam laid more towels over where they had cleaned the green vomit off the couch. He didn't think it was able to burn anymore, but no one knew for sure.

They noticed the burn marks on the side of his face where the sizzling vomit had pooled around him and burned through his flesh. Opening his mouth, they saw the burns where the liquid had made its way out of his body.

"Holy shit!" Sam said, amazed at the damage it had done. "That was inside of him?"

"Looks like it." Bobby replied.

"So, it really was burning him?"

"Guess so."

"What the hell does his insides look like?"

"Don't think we wanna know."

Dean laid limp on the couch, his breathing ragged and dry sounding. The only signs of life were the periodic coughs that sounded hoarse and painful. There was an audible wheezing in his chest.

He didn't wake for the rest of the day or through the night. For 24 hours he slept without moving. The sounds that came from his breathing and chest remained the same.

They took shifts watching over him as the others slept.

It was the middle of the day. Sam was sitting near Dean and Bobby was in his study. John had passed out on the floor on the other side of the room. Dean started to cough. That was normal. He would cough due to the dryness and soreness in his throat, but this time he couldn't seem to stop. He couldn't catch his breath. All three men were at his side instantly, helping to relieve the distress his body was under.

He was eventually able to take in a deep gasp of air as his eyes flew opened with the panic that had overcome him. His body started to shake.

"Shh, shh, it's okay."

John calmly spoke as he pulled his son toward him. They had him sitting up to breathe, John was sitting beside him, he pulled Dean toward him, letting him lean against him and relieve the pain from sitting.

"We're all right here. It's okay." John cooed.

Dean drew in a few quick raspy breaths. He half way closed his eyes as the pain grew with each breath he took.

"I need you to breathe, Dean. I know it probably hurts, but you need to breathe." Bobby was knelt in front of him, his hand on the side of Dean's face.

Dean's chest rose and fell with Bobby's order to breathe. Dean's face tightened in a grimace with the pain that went along with it.

"Here." Sam handed Bobby a glass of cold ice water.

"Sip on this, you hear me? It's going to hurt too much if you try to guzzle it, but it'll help." Bobby instructed as he placed the glass to Dean's mouth.

He took a sip and pulled away with the pain and let the water drool out of his mouth.

Bobby took a small ice cube out of the cup. "Here, try to just suck on this some, between the wetness and coldness it'll help with those burns."

Dean's jaw shook as he opened it to allow Bobby to give him the ice. It did help, but swallowing was a whole different story right now. As the ice melted it dripped from the corners of Dean's mouth.

"It's okay. It'll still help and you'll be able to swallow it soon enough." Bobby assured him.

Dean closed his eyes and allowed his body to relax against his dad's.

"How the hell does one little thing cause so much damn destruction?" John sighed.

"Yeah." Bobby replied. "Think of how many parents and other family members who have beaten and raped their own kids because of something like this, and not even know it."

"It sucks, I'll tell you that!" John replied, rubbing his hand through Dean's hair. "I know about things like this, I know the monsters exist, and it still sucks!"

"I wonder how many people are in jail because something possessed them to hurt someone?" Sam questioned.

"Don't think we'll ever know the answer to that." Bobby sighed.

"Is it over now?" Sam asked, unsure of anything anymore.

"Yeah, kid. It's over. That was the last of it." Bobby assured him with so much exhaustion in his voice. He was sitting on the floor with his back against the couch and he allowed his head to drop backwards and lean against Dean's body and closed his eyes.

They were all exhausted. All four of them. This had been the longest, hardest ordeal of their lives, and now, it was over, finally. Now came the hardest part. Now they all had to heal from this. Especially Dean.

No one seemed to move, they just settled in the spots they were at and fell asleep. As long as they were together they knew Dean would be fine. No one stirred for the rest of the day or through the night. It was 18 hours before any one of them woke. It was Dean who woke first. He started shifting and trying to adjust his body, which jarred Bobby's head and pushed against John, waking both of them.

"Hey, you alright?" John still sounded half asleep but was quickly becoming alert to his son.

Dean put his hand on his throat. And crinkled his face in pain.

"Need some ice?"

He nodded.

"Got it." Bobby said with a slight moan as he stretched his old bones and muscles when he stood. Feeling his old age in the stiffness from the position he had slept.

He came back with a cup full of small ice cubes and placed one in Dean's mouth. Once the wetness started to sooth him, part of it running down his throat and part running out of the corners of his mouth, he was able to clear his throat slightly and swallow a little.

The days passed both quickly and slowly. Dean stayed on the couch, taking ice when he woke up. He wasn't able to make much noise as his throat and mouth were blistered from the burning. On day 3 Dean managed to sit up on his own. He sighed as he rested his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

"Dean, hey." Sam said surprised to see his brother moving the way he was.

Dean drew in a deep breath.

"Ice?" Sam asked, sitting beside him with a cup of fresh ice in his hands.

Dean gave Sam a slight grin and took the ice he offered. The coolness soothed his mouth. His face tightened in pain when he swallowed the liquid down his throat. Once he had his throat wet enough he was able to work on clearing the lump out of it.

"Uh, how you feeling?"

"Peachy." Dean's voice scratched out as he rolled his eyes with his own response.

"Yeah, that's why you look like hell." Sam half chuckled.

"Feel like it too." Dean rasped out, followed by a painful cough that left his lungs wheezing as he gasped for air.

"Take it easy there, champ." John said as he made his way toward the boys.

"Yeah, I'll remember * _cough_ * that next * _cough*_ time." Dean struggled to get the words out between the coughing and wheezing.

With a groan Dean rolled to his side, resting his head on the arm of the couch. "Son of a bitch!" He added after his body had settled against the couch.

"Peachy, huh?" Sam questioned.

"Shut up, bitch." Dean moaned.

Sam just laughed at his brother, giving him a pat on his leg as he stood up. "Put your legs on the couch and get you some more rest. You're obviously not 'peachy'."

"Air quotations? Really Sammy?"

"Shut up, jerk!"

Dean just grinned at his little brother. "Dude, I gotta pee." Dean groaned as he pushed himself back into a seated position.

"Need help with that?"

"No! I don't need help with that." Dean replied with a sarcastic annoyance as he pushed himself off the couch.

"Whoa there, tiger." Sam said as he reached out and grabbed his brother's waist, keeping him from faceplanting the floor. "You sure you don't need help with that?" Sam practically giggled at Dean.

John chuckled at his boys. As annoying as they could be at times, he was thankful for this moment. He was thankful to see both his boys acting more like themselves, especially Dean.

"Get off me!" Dean pushed his brother away, grabbing onto the arm of the couch to keep his balance as his legs shook from the use they weren't used to. "Okay, fine." Dean groaned out. "But once I make it there, I can take care of things myself."

"It's not like I was offering to shake it for you." Sam sarcastically replied.

"Keep it up, bitch." Dean warned, with no intention of following through with any threat he gave his brother.

He leaned on Sam as he wrapped his arm around Dean's waist, Dean seemed to be limping, unable to get his body to cooperate with him, but with Sam's help he managed to make it to the bathroom.

"I got it now." Dean moaned as he pushed himself away from Sam, holding onto the door frame for support.

"Okay, well I'll be right here, you know, in case you need help shaking or something."

"Bitch!" Dean closed the door with that.

"Jerk!" Sam called out through the door.

Dean stood over the toilet, he pressed both hands against the wall in front of him for support. He couldn't remember when the last time he used the bathroom was. It was like he had been living in a dream state.

He clenched his teeth and tightened his jaw, suppressing the growing groan that was building inside of him as he started to relieve himself. His eyes teared up and his hands pressed harder against the wall. He hadn't expected the burning that came with it. It was enough to take his breath away and almost drop him to his knees. He was sure at one moment he wasn't able to hold back the groan and let it slip past his lips. Once he was finished it left him breathless, gasping for air.

"Son of a bitch!" He groaned once he was able to catch his breath.

He flushed and grabbed onto the sink, pulling himself in front of the mirror. He washed his hands and gave his reflection a quick glance. He didn't want to see himself right now. He didn't want to see how broken he was.

He opened the door and took one step out of the room, practically collapsing into Sam's arms.

"Hey there, shaking too much for you?" Sam joked.

"Son of a bitch that burned!" Dean groaned as Sam lowered him to the floor.

"You okay, son?" John was at his boys' side immediately.

"Yeah. Just. Give. Me. A. Minute." Dean huffed out between breaths.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and the tears filled his eyes.

After a few minutes he rolled himself over and with the help of his brother and dad he was standing upright again. His breathing was under control and heartrate had slowed.

"Good now?"

John received a nod in response. Together they helped Dean back to the couch.

He hated being so weak. He hated needing so much help from others. But, Mom had told him to take this time to allow himself to heal, to really heal. If he followed his dad's orders so closely he sure as hell wasn't going to ignore his mom's. So, he allowed the others to help him as much as he could.

He would never admit how much he really did need their help. But, he also knew if they weren't there he would be able to figure out how to manage on his own. He would crawl to the bathroom if he needed, but they helped make things a little easier for him. Which he was thankful for since the burning was still present. Sure, it was a different type of burning. This wasn't a fire raging inside of him, it was the healing blisters and scabs left as evidence of the flames that once existed.

Physically he was healing as expected, little by little the pain deuterated and he was able to sit and move about better. His strength was slowly regained. It felt like such a success when his own legs were steady enough to walk himself to the bathroom without the need of support from anything or anyone. He still had difficulty managing the stairs, especially when going up them. By the time he made it upstairs he was always out of breath. Going down wasn't as bad but he still had to work at getting his legs to take each step at a time and keep steady and he still needed the use of the hand rail.

He was able to go outside without a problem. He didn't venture into his beloved junkyard like he wanted, but he did sit in the chair on the porch and enjoy some alone time overlooking the love of his life. He had started eating without being forced. It was small at first. Especially while his throat was still healing, but he had gotten to where he would eat at least half of each meal without any issue.

He still fought with sleeping in the room him and Sammy shared. He would tell himself everything was safe again, plus it wasn't the same bed as before. Nothing had happened to him on that bed, but he still managed to convince Sammy into rearranging the set up of the room to make him more comfortable.

He stayed the nights in his room, in his bed, with his brother nearby. Most nights the anxiety and panic that rose in him would send such an adrenaline rush that when he crashed from it he would fall asleep. It seemed to be the most common way he fell asleep these days.

He was taking care of his personal hygiene needs on a daily basis and had even started doing some small, simple workouts to build his muscles back. Physically he was doing okay.

The family was healing. Actually, they were doing what they always did, mostly ignored the situation at hand. But, every now and then Dean would bring something up and they would be sure to talk about it. Mostly, he would bring it up because it was something that came to him in a nightmare that bothered him. That seemed to be the easiest way to address the things they needed to heal between them, especially with his dad.

Sam wasn't so hard to talk to. He was always willing to have chick flick moments. In fact, he had threatened to lock Sam in a closet if he asked him if he was okay one more time. He never realized such a simple question could wear on him so much.

As much as he secretly enjoyed having people help take care of him when he needed it, he was sick of everyone always asking him if he was okay. What did that even mean? No, of course he wasn't okay. He hasn't been okay since he was four. Is he managing? Yes. Is he pushing through and holding strong? For the most part, yes. Physically? Yeah, he was healing and taking care of himself the way he needed. Had he self injured since he killed the thing? Not like before, now he had family there supporting him again, helping him get through this.

He even managed to help Bobby with some hunting things, things to help out other hunters who called him for his wisdom and knowledge. He was surprised to find out how many people counted on Bobby to help them, he helped as much as he could. But, Dean couldn't help but notice he didn't help anyone the way he helped the Winchesters.

No one mattered as much as they did. No one mattered as much as Dean did. He couldn't figure out why. He had asked Bobby and he just called him an idjit and made some comment about how none of them were his sons.

It was the nightmares that would get him. They would wake him in fear and shaking sweats. He dreaded the nighttime. He feared what the darkness held. But, even the flashbacks during the day were hard. There were times he would wake up on the floor, laying in someone's arms, confused, lost. Some of those times his body completely gave out and he had used the bathroom on himself. Those were the worst ones because his mind would completely go out with his body, they were the hardest to pull himself out of, the hardest to recover from.

Moments were missing in his recent memory. Moments of panic attacks and severe flashbacks that his mind would go blank and show the weakness he still held. Physically he was healing, but mentally it seemed to be taking longer than he expected. He wanted so hard to show his dad that he could be strong again, that he was still someone he could be proud of, but every time he thought he was getting close to being that person, every time he was sure everything would be okay, something else seemed to push him down. A memory would break him again. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn't sure if he would ever be the man his dad needed him to be again.


	58. Chapter 58

**CHAPTER 58**

 _It was a peaceful night, Dad came home from a late night at work and with Dean in his arms they both tucked Sam in bed and told him good night. Then, Dad tucked Dean in bed, telling him a bedtime story before giving him a kiss on his forehead and running his fingers through his hair._

" _Night Buddy."_

" _Night Dad." Dean said with a yawn as John turned out the light and mostly closed his door._

 _He made his way to his bedroom where he found his wife, Mary, already asleep. She had a long day taking care of two little ones so he didn't want to wake her. He made his way downstairs to watch some tv and had fallen asleep in his recliner._

 _That's when the whole world changed. Dean was woken by screaming. His brother was crying and his dad was screaming. He ran out of his room to see what was going on. There were hot flames coming from the nursery._

" _Daddy!" Dean yelled when he saw what was happening. John placed his little brother in his arms._

" _Take Sammy and run outside as fast as you can and don't look back. Go Dean, now!"_

 _Dean ran down the stairs and outside._

" _It's okay, Sammy. I got you." Dean said gently to his little brother._

 _Then he started running again, and he ran, and he ran, and he ran. It was always down the stairs with his little brother in his arms. Once he reached the bottom of the stairs he would run some more. Run down the next set of stairs that were identical to the last set, only to do it again when he reached the end. He never made it back outside. Never made it out of the burning house. He was stuck, with little Sammy in his arms. Stuck in the burning hell where his mom was killed._

 _He could feel the heat. He could feel it burning his insides. He could feel the pain his mom felt, the fear of being burned to death. But, he needed to save Sammy. He couldn't let the fire take him, not until Sammy is safe._

 _Why can't he get away? Why can't he get his brother safe? Dad? Where is Dad? Is Dad safe? Or did he burn too? Was Dad ever there?_

 _He searched his memory. Dad was safe. He knew he was. He was safe because he made him do training. Hunting training. It was hard. Sure, some of it was fun. One of his best memories was the day his dad took him to shoot for the first time. He was a natural. Even Dad said he was. The pride that glowed on his face was something he never remembered seeing before, or since._

 _But, the training only got harder and harder. It was hard to juggle a toddler and the training Dad put on him. A toddler. That means Sammy was safe too. Somehow, they got out of the house, they were all 3 okay. But, Mom wasn't. Mom was gone. She burned with the house._

 _If she was here Dad wouldn't act the way he did. He wouldn't spank him and scream so much. He wouldn't leave bruises the size of his fingers on his arms when he grabbed him. He wouldn't do any of that if Mom was here._

 _If Mom was here he wouldn't be going through the crap he's been going through. He would be loved and supported. He would have the gentle touch he needed. He would have the kind words that only a mom could give. He would be safe._

 _Safe. Safe was such a foreign word to him. He tried to tell himself he was safe. He tried to tell himself everything was okay. But, truth is, he hasn't been safe in a long time. He hasn't been safe since the night his mom was killed. And, nothing has been okay since then. But, he had to keep that a secret. He couldn't tell anyone how he felt. They wouldn't understand. He would just look weak._

 _Weak. Now, that's a word he has gotten used to. That's a word that he has used way too much lately. A word that left him feeling hopeless and shattered. He wasn't sure if he would ever regain the strength he once had. If he couldn't then he feared he would find himself alone for the rest of his life._

 _No one needed a hunter who wasn't strong. No one needed him anyhow. The only thing that kept him being needed was his strength and without it he was nobody._

 _Nobody. Nobody. Nobody. Dean Winchester was a nobody. He's always been a nobody, he's always known that, but now everyone else knew it too._

 _The pain he's been put through, the men he's gotten on his knees for, both willingly and not, the fact that he had intercourse with other men, or actually they had it with him. It was all out there now, out there for everyone to know._

With a deep inhale Dean's eyes opened quickly then delivered a few rapid blinks to clear his vision. He looked around the darkened room. He was in his bed, in his room at Bobby's alone. He was alone. The way he's going to end up spending the rest of his life the way things were going.

Perhaps everyone had already left him? He didn't hear voices, didn't hear any movement in the house. Maybe they knew he would never amount to anything anymore, maybe they knew he was a nobody and nothing would change that, maybe they knew they didn't need him anymore, and they left.

This darkened space around him, this emptiness in his chest, that's who he's always going to be. That's the new Dean Winchester. Good for nothing, well, except one thing. He seemed to be good enough at it that even his dad and brother got off on him.

Dean shook his head to clear those thoughts from his mind. No, he couldn't think that way, he wouldn't allow himself to think like that. They didn't do it on purpose. It was that creature, the monster that made them act the way they did.

Dean wondered if, in all honesty, he was still a monster. If he was, that would mean that he was really the one who made them do what they did. He was the one who gave them the signs, the go ahead, the green light, to hurt him just a little more.

What did it even matter? He wasn't worth fighting for anyhow. The only reason he fought the last battle was to keep the monster from getting a hold of anyone else. It wasn't to save himself. Sure, he had asked his mom for help, but he would have been just as satisfied taking out the monster and staying in the darkness with her.

At least he would know he was loved. He would know he was wanted. Right now, he didn't know if those things were true. He couldn't see a light at the end of this long tunnel he's been traveling. He's been lost in the darkness, wandering around, trying to find his way, for so long, he wasn't sure if he was even headed in the right direction anymore.

He just need to find the light, just a small flicker would be all he would need to give him a glimmer of hope, to let him know he was doing right, going the right direction. But, everything just felt so wrong. And, now, he was alone. Not like he really felt like he has had anyone to guide him anyhow.

But, then again, that's the story of his life, isn't it? No one to guide him, no one to tell him if he's doing right or wrong, no one to show him the way. He learned through pain. If he did wrong he got punished; if he did right he got ignored. Maybe, him being alone was a sign he was doing right? Being alone and ignored were pretty much the same thing.

He figured he needed to get out of bed, to get out of the darkness that surrounded him. He needed to find out if he was truly alone. He wandered through the house and headed downstairs after checking the other bedrooms and found no one.

There was no one on the couch or chairs, no one in the office area, no one in the kitchen. He was alone. Lost and alone.

He looked outside and saw his dad's truck was gone. He sat and thought for a minute and had decided if he was alone then he couldn't just sit around and turn into dry dust so he made his way to Bobby's office. He looked through some papers on his desk and things on the computer. He was looking for a hunt. If he was going to go out, which he was since he was alone and weak, then he was going to go out swinging.

'One last hunt' he told himself as he searched for anything that caught his eye. It didn't take him long to find something that seemed interesting. He was just starting to get into the research when he heard hid dad's truck rumble up the drive.

Dean hustled to close the search windows and make sure everything was back the way it was before. He wasn't alone, not anymore. But, he had made his mind up, he wasn't going to keep sitting around feeling sorry for himself, or allow others to feel sorry for him. He was going to finish this the Winchester way. He would go down swinging, fighting his last fight.

He knew if he told anyone of his plan they would only stop him. They would only remind him how weak he is and that he isn't ready to face the world again. Really, they probably didn't want to be seen with him, they didn't want other hunters to see him.

He hustled to the couch to sit and wait for them to enter the house. He was going to act as normal as possible, like nothing was going on inside his head.

He figured maybe that's why they all left down the road without Dean, because they didn't want to be seen with him? He wondered if the whole world would know his weakness just by looking at him. Would they be able to see how damaged he was? How broken he had become? Was he that big of an embarrassment to his family?

He couldn't believe he had become the outcast, the one that brought shame to the family. He had always taken so much pride in what he had become, in who he had become. He was proud of his family and how strong they were. But, now he was the one no one would be proud of. He was the one who was hurting the family he had tried so hard to build strong.

"Dean?"

John's voice sounded like it was full of caution. Was he scared to come around him? Had he finally seen his son for the monster he was?

Dean looked up at his dad. His eyes still far away.

"You okay?"

John's question continued to ring with the tone of caution. Act normal. Right. Dean had forgotten.

"Yeah, of course, why?"

Yeah, that sounded casual enough, like everything was okay.

"Because I've been trying to get your attention for 10 minutes without a response."

John sounded concerned now.

"Oh."

Damn! What the hell do I say to that? I must have zoned out? No. That would only prove there was something wrong. I didn't hear you? Yeah that sounded good.

"I didn't hear you."

"Well, I don't see how you didn't, I've been standing right in front of you."

Great. That didn't work, now what?

"Whatever."

Dean tried to stand to leave the room, only to feel his dad's hand against his shoulder, stopping him from standing. Dean sat back down, eyes on the man in front of him.

"Talk to me." John said as he sat beside his oldest son.

"Okay. What do you wanna talk about?"

"You."

"Not the most interesting topic."

"I think it is."

Dean shrugged. "It's actually a pretty lame topic, and will be an equally lame conversation."

"Really? And why is that?"

"Because, there's really nothing interesting to talk about."

"I beg to differ, there's a lot of interesting things to talk about."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Like that car of yours, how about you and me go out and get her cleaned up? It's been a while since she's had any love."

Dean gave a slight grin to that. "Sure."

He always loved his Baby. Sam always picked on him about his love for that car but he didn't understand. There was something special about the smooth glossy paint and the soft roar of her engine. There was a comfort to the leather seats that sat inside of her interior. A safety that surrounded him when he sat behind the wheel.

John and Dean headed outside together. Dean ran his hand down the dusty side of his prized possession.

"I'm sorry, Baby. I've neglected you." He whispered softly to the first love of his life.

John just shook his head and laughed internally.

"Did I really drink all of these?"

Dean asked with shock in his voice as he started emptying they beer cans and liquor bottles from inside the car. They still remained from the last time he was in her. From the last time he had been anywhere except Bobby's.

"Looks that way." John replied.

"Man, how the hell was I even still awake?" Dean shook his head.

"You tell me. I ain't got a clue what the hell was going through your head when you stormed out of here and decided to go on a drinking binge. Ending up in Lawrence none the less. Lawrence, out of all places."

"I don't know." Dean sighed. "I guess, after hearing you talk about leaving, I just couldn't lose you again. I mean, I had finally got you as a dad, an actual dad again, and then you were going to be gone. Something inside of me snapped and I couldn't let you leave, not after everything that we…"

Dean paused, drawing in a deep breath. "I figured it would be easier if I was the one who left."

"Why would you think that?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe because you've never been very good and keeping your word to either of us, but damn good at walking away when we… when I… needed you. And, after so long it gets harder to take, I mean sure, you get used to it, but doesn't make it any easier. This way, you didn't have to break your word or walk away from anyone. I was doing it for you."

"You think that was going to make things easier?"

Dean shrugged. "I guess."

"I wasn't leaving, Dean."

"You said you were."

"I had to check on some things I've been keeping track of, for ole yellow eyes, it would take a little while to drive to where I needed to go so I figured, after the drive there and take care of what I needed, I would need to sleep before driving back. So, I figured a day and half, two at most and I was going to be back. I wasn't going to break my word to you or your brother."

Dean dropped his head. He knew he was childish the way he acted about his dad leaving. He knew he could handle not having him, he's done it his whole life. He knew his dad was right, there were still things that needed to be taken care of. The world didn't revolve around Dean, it never has, and never will.

Which made him feel that much worse about everything that happened. He stormed out acting childish and got himself mixed up in a big mess. A mess he didn't need to get into. A mess he wouldn't have gotten into if he wasn't so damn weak.

"I'm sorry."

It was all Dean could manage to say as he picked up the last beer can, dropping it in the trash bag and closing the door.

John and Dean had both been in opposite doors in the backseat, cleaning the trash out, both leaned into the seat talking. Dean stood back up when he picked up the last can and closed the door, closed out his dad. He leaned his chest against his car, resting his folded arms on top of her hood and placing his chin on his arms.

John followed Dean's behavior, doing the same. Both men stood facing each other with their arms crossed on the hood supporting their chins.

"Sorry for what?" John asked, not letting this conversation go.

"For acting so damn childish. For getting myself in a mess that I shouldn't have gotten into." Dean turned, resting his back against the door that once held the pressure of his chest. He didn't want to look at his dad. The shame and guilt filled him. There was the reminder of his weakness every time he looked into his dad's eyes.

John stepped around to the side of the car and leaned against the door beside Dean.

"Let's get one thing straight, boy. Just because you have emotions don't make you childish."

John rubbed a hand down his face. "I know, I haven't exactly been a good example of how to handle emotions."

Dean gave a sarcastic chuckle. "You've been the poster child of how not to handle them."

"I know, Dean. And, I'm sorry."

Dean just shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"Yes, it is, and you know it is."

"What do you want me to say? That my life is a mess because you didn't know how to handle your emotions? Well, it's not! My life is a mess because of the choices I made for myself. It has nothing to do with you. The only thing you've done is make me a better person."

"Dean, how the hell is beating on your own damn kid making them a better person?"

"You didn't beat on me."

"Oh, really?"

"Not all the time. And since when did punishments become beatings? I did wrong and got punished, end of story."

"End of story? Boy." John drew in a deep sigh. "I used your own damn fear, a fear that I didn't even give a shit where it came from or why. Of course, now I know. But, when you started being afraid of the belt I used it way more than I should have. More than I needed to. There were times even little Sammy cried for me to stop because you were hurting and bleeding. But, you never once told me to stop. You never begged for the punishment to be over. You just took it, accepted it, and didn't ever say anything about it."

Dean shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't sure what to say to that. He didn't know he was supposed to say anything or ask him to stop. He was being punished, it wasn't supposed to feel good. But, if it was truly okay then why couldn't he manage to look at his dad? Why did he feel like he wanted to fold into himself?

"Thought we were washing Baby?" Dean spoke up, trying his best to come out from the uncomfortable feeling he was being covered with.

The guys started washing the dust and dirt from the car, but John was determined not to let this conversation drop. There were things he needed to say, things Dean needed to hear. He knew his son had a lot of healing left to do. And, he knew it had to start with him.


	59. Chapter 59

**CHAPTER 59**

"Dean?" John started with his attempt at a conversation that scared him, while they washed and polished Dean's car together.

"Yeah?"

"What was your childhood like?"

"What?" Dean's voice was full of confusion that matched the expression on his face.

"I mean, like when you think of your childhood, what do you think about?"

"Umm… well, there's Sammy. I guess I think a lot about him when I think back. The cute little toddler learning to walk, and the annoying pain in the ass that he grew to be." Dean chuckled. "But, damn, he was a cute little thing." Dean smiled.

"Yeah, he was." John agreed. "But, what about you?"

"I mean. I was there too."

"Yeah, and how was it for you?"

"Well, I'm the one who taught him how to walk and helped him talk."

"I know you were. But, how did that make you feel?"

"Proud?"

John sighed. "You're not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

"I'm not sure what you want from me, Dad."

"I want to know how you really feel about your childhood, about me being gone so much and having to raise your brother. What it was like for you to grow up without a mom."

"All the crap Sam researched?" Dean stopped his dad's rambling with his question.

"Yeah, something like that."

Dean cleared his throat. "Well, it wasn't easy if that's what you're asking."

"How so?"

"I mean, I was little myself. I wasn't exactly old enough, or mature enough, to raise a baby on my own. I mean. I know you were there part of the time, but it didn't always feel like you were. Even when you were it didn't feel like it."

"Why's that?"

"I don't know. I mean…"

Dean stopped polishing his car and leaned against it with his arms resting on the roof. "At first, I remember you were like an empty shell. You didn't do much of anything except lay around, depressed or whatever, like you didn't have emotions and all that. You didn't really even get up to help take care of either of us."

"I know."

"Then, well you started drinking, a lot. And then got into the hunting stuff and hanging out with the people you met, learning what you could. That's when you physically left us. And, when you came back, you were usually too drunk to do anything but pass out."

"Yeah."

"Then, when you decided to start training me to hunt that's pretty much when everything changed. I mean. I could handle your little drunken outbursts you would have from time to time before you started pushing me so much."

"What outbursts?" John had been leaning his back against the car and turned to look at Dean with that question.

Dean shrugged. "You would just get angry, or whatever. Usually you were just really loud and would curse but there were a few times… when I tried to help you get your boots off or your pants and get you to bed you would push me away. Usually I would end up being pushed against something or on the floor."

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Dean just shook his head and moved out of his dad's line of sight as he started polishing his baby again. "It's not a big deal."

"Dean, yes, it is."

"No, Dad, it's not."

"Why not?"

"Because you were drunk and didn't know what you were doing, besides it never really hurt. I mean there were a couple times I'd have a small bruise from hitting something, but it didn't ever really hurt."

"And, that's supposed to make it okay?"

"Yeah, it is."

"Why? Because I only left small bruises on you? Or because all I did was mostly get loud and curse at you?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, something like that."

"Dean. Look at me, son."

Dean followed his dad's order, pausing what he was doing to look at his dad. "What?"

John ran his hand down his face. "Is that really the way you see it?"

Dean shrugged. "Yeah."

"Why? Because you've had worse?"

"I mean. Yeah, I have. But, even at that point in time, I still saw it the same way I do now. It really wasn't a big deal. Okay? I knew you were drunk. I knew you had a lot you were dealing with and I did what I had to in order to make sure your needs were met too."

"Too? When have your needs ever been met?"

Dean sighed. "Too, as in you and Sammy."

He didn't continue looking at his dad after that comment. Instead he went back to polishing his baby. Anything to keep his mind distracted.

"Dean."

Dean didn't reply, he didn't look up at his dad.

John sighed. He needed Dean to have this conversation. Hell, John needed this conversation. He couldn't lose his son, not now. He needed to keep him talking. But, Dean seemed to close into himself.

"Dean, I need you to talk to me, please, help me understand."

"Understand what?" Dean's voice was full of frustration. "What the hell do you want me to say? That you fucked my life up? That you're the cause for every horrible thing that's happened in my life? That you neglected us and none of my needs were ever met? Huh? Is that what you want to hear?"

Dean paused for a moment. "Well, you're not going to hear that. I'm sorry but that's just not the way I feel. That's not the way I see things, okay? I mean, sure, life wasn't perfect, but who's is? Sure, you may have been tough, but you did what you thought was the best for us, and it made me strong enough to survive this life. The things life has thrown my way have not been your fault. They have nothing to do with you. Okay?"

Dean was pacing by the time he finished. He couldn't concentrate on his car any longer. He couldn't manage to stay in one place. He was frustrated. He just wanted everything to go back to normal. And, this was not normal.

"Just wait a minute, Dean! You're my son, everything that happens to you has to do with me. I care about you, I love you. I always have. I may not have showed it. I may not have said it, but I've always cared about what happened to you."

"Oh, really? So, when you were beating the hell out of me, or making me do your damn military training, that was caring?"

"Training? Yes, I cared enough to make sure you were properly trained."

"Right. Because coming home drunk at 2 am and throwing punches at me because I tried to help you to bed so you wouldn't wake Sammy, then making me run 5 miles in the damn snow in my boxers and t-shirt is one hell of a way to show how much you cared about proper training."

"I… I don't remember that."

"I was 13."

"Dean. I'm sorry."

"Doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because. Okay? Just because."

"Dean. I really don't remember."

"I know." Dean dropped his voice, filling it with sadness. "You were drunk, you usually don't remember anything that you do when you're drunk."

"So, tell me then."

"Tell you what?" Dean stopped pacing and turned to look at his dad.

"Tell me what I don't remember."

"How am I supposed to know what you remember and don't?"

"How… um… how many times have I hit you?"

"I don't know. I don't keep track of things like that."

"That many, huh?"

"Dad, it's not like that." Dean sighed, leaning against the hood of his car beside his dad. "I… I don't know what you're wanting from me. I'm sorry."

"I want the truth. I want to know how you really feel about things."

Dean looked at his dad, trying to size him up, trying to figure out if he was really wanting the truth or if he was looking for something to make him not feel bad about the dad he had been.

"The truth?" Dean asked.

"Yeah."

"The truth is, I always wished you were around. I missed Mom. Still do. But, when I lost Mom I lost my dad too. I made you into a hero in my head. I even made Sam believe it too. It was easier that way, you know. I hated the lying at first, especially about you. I had to lie to Sammy, the schools, teachers, everyone. I had to make up a new story all the time about where you were."

"I honestly couldn't imagine how hard that must have been for you."

Dean just shrugged. "I got used to it, after a while the stories came easier and easier and once Sam knew the truth it all felt more comfortable."

"You shouldn't have had to get used to it."

"There's a lot I shouldn't have had to get used to, but I did. That's just the life we lived. We still live. And, that's okay. That's what people do, right? They adapt and get used to what life gives them."

"Yeah, I suppose that's true. But that's something that usually happens slowly as you grow older. It's not natural for you to have to adapt and get used to everything suddenly, especially at such a young age."

"Well, I did. And, I think I did okay."

"You've done great. I couldn't be prouder of you."

"Then, what's the problem?"

"There's nothing wrong."

"Then, what is this all about?"

"Healing."

Dean looked at his dad, keeping eye contact for a moment. "I don't need help healing. I'm fine." Dean said as he looked away from his dad and pushed himself off the hood of the car.

"Dean, wait." John stopped his son from walking away. "I need this. You may not. But, I do." John admitted.

Dean sighed and stood in front of his dad. "What exactly do you need, Dad? You want to hear about every little heartache I've had? You want to hear about how much life hurts? Or are you just trying to work your way to the worst part? You want to know how it felt to be with other guys?"

"Dean." John sighed.

"Look. I can answer all that with a few simple words. My whole life is a damn heartache, life sucks and I don't even keep track of everything that hurts, and I fucking hate even the thought of other guys. There. The end." Dean stretched his arms out wide beside him, giving up, giving into the conversation his dad was wanting.

"Dean, that's not what I meant."

"Then you talk because I don't have a damn clue what you want me to say. Nothing I say seems to be what you're looking for."

"I never said that, it's just… I don't know… simple minded… are things really that simple for you?"

Dean shrugged and tucked his hands in his front pockets. "Yeah, I guess. I don't know, I don't really think about it like that."

"Do you ever really think about anything?"

"What? You trying to say I'm dumb now?"

"No, Dean. Stand down. I'm not trying to make you on the defense. I'm just trying to understand you a little better."

"Since when have you cared about that?"

"That's my point, I'm trying to care."

"Because you feel sorry for me now?"

"Dean, lets get one thing straight, I do not feel sorry for you. It hurts me to see you hurting, but I don't feel sorry for you."

"Right." Dean rolled his eyes.

"This isn't going like I expected."

"Well, it would help if I knew what you were expecting."

"I don't know, Dean."

"I mean, yeah, okay, you weren't always there. When you were, you weren't always the nicest person to be around. I had to make sure Sam was safe even around you. Yeah, sure, I took most of your anger and frustration because I knew how bad it could get and I couldn't let Sam find that out too."

Dean leaned back against the car beside his dad and rubbed his hand down his face. "I'm not even sure how I managed sometimes. There were times I didn't think my body would be able to take anymore, but it did, somehow. Especially when it came to the workouts and running and training."

Dean drew in a deep breath, calming the anxiety that was rising in him. "Yeah, I was scared shitless of your belt because I learned how much that could hurt when you left us with that other family. He beat the hell out of me with his belt, so I guess, in a way that left an impact on me. I wasn't scared of it because of what you did with it, I accepted that, it was because of him not you."

"Why is that? I mean, I'm sure I've done way worse to you over the years than he ever could have."

"Yeah, but you're my dad, so… I don't know… it's okay, I guess. I mean, it was punishment and training and your right as a dad. But, he was just plain mean. He didn't have the right to touch either of us."

"I didn't have the right to do some of the things I've done to you."

Dean just shrugged. He didn't see it the same way as his dad did. He accepted what came from him. He accepted the punishments and training. Nothing his dad did to him seemed to stick with him, it didn't bother him the way the things others would do did.

"Dean, I've beat the hell out of you, not just with the belt, I've taken my fist to you until you couldn't move. I've knocked you down and kept you down. And, honestly there wasn't a reason in this world that I could think of that would make that okay."

Again, Dean just shrugged.

"I remember this one time. I don't remember how old you were. Barely a teenager, I think. It was you and me, I don't recall where Sam was. Anyhow, we had just finished a hunt and I went to the bar and sent you back to our room. I don't really remember what we hunted, but I remember it was hard as hell, that's why I had to hit the bar first."

John looked at Dean, making sure he still had his attention. He did.

"I didn't know you were hurt. You didn't tell me. When I got back to the room I could barely walk I was so drunk. You had taken a shower and tried to take care of yourself, you had your shirt off and blood covered your side and soaked through the bedding on the bed."

"A werewolf."

"What?"

"It was a werewolf we hunted that night."

John nodded. "I got so pissed at you for not telling me you were hurt. Instead of caring, I got pissed."

"Yeah. I remember that."

"Dean, I'm sorry. That image will stick in my head forever. I still have nightmares about it. I can still see the bloody pile you had become on the floor against the wall. Man, I beat the hell out of you. I got pissed because you didn't tell me you were hurt and what the hell did I do? Hurt your worse. Yeah, because that makes sense! The thing is, I don't remember you ever trying to stop me. I don't remember you defending yourself."

"I didn't."

"Why not?"

"I never did. I figured it was always something I deserved. Plus, that time, if you remember, there was a little girl, 6 maybe? That we were trying to save and got to them too late. That's why it was such a hard hunt, because we weren't able to save that little girl. I figured you had some frustrations you needed to let out."

John nodded. "Yeah, I remember now."

"Once it was over, it was over. I didn't keep a hold on it. I let it go with everything else. Dad. I'm sorry if it still bothers you, but it's okay. Honest. I got past it, just like I did everything else."

"Son, you shouldn't have to."

"Yeah, I did."

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"You keep saying that."

"I don't know what else to say."

"Then why say anything at all?"

"Because, we've done that for far too long, it's time to talk about things, get everything out in the open, start back over with a clean slate."

"I don't want a clean slate. I just want to pick up from where we left off at. I want life to go back to normal. I don't want to do all this healing and feeling crap! And I sure as hell don't want to keep carrying around the memories of everything that's happened lately."

"I know you don't. I wish there was something I could do to take it away, but I'm not even sure what to do to help."

"Me either."

They both stood in the silence of the moment. The raw truth burning through their souls like the rays from the sunset in front of them. They were leaning against the hood of the car that held so many memories for them both. The thing that brought them together as a family. The one thing that would always be home when they didn't have one.

They both watched the sun go down as the colors danced across the sky. The silent space shifting between a golden orange and red. The silence seemed too loud to Dean. He had become scared of the silence, uncertain of the darkness that was making its way through the light.

"Let's go see if Bobby's got anything fixed for supper." John broke the silence with a pat on Dean's shoulder.

Without a word Dean pushed himself off the hood and followed his dad into the house. Bobby was just getting supper ready when they had come inside.

"Supper's about ready, why don't you two wash up?" Bobby said as they made their way through the door.

"I'm telling you, Bobby, you're gonna make someone a good wife one day." John laughed, getting a chuckle out of his old friend.

"Not hungry." Dean said in a lowered voice and headed upstairs to his room.

He entered the room and Sam was relaxing on his bed with a book in hand. He glanced up to see Dean come through the door.

"What's eating you?" Sam asked, noticing his brother's tired, worn out appearance.

"Just tired."

"Okay." Sam said sarcastically.

"Bobby's about got dinner ready."

"Good! I'm starved! You coming?"

Dean just shook his head and made his way under his covers in his bed.

"Dean? You okay?"

"Told you, I'm tired."

"Okay."

Sam decided to let his brother be for the moment. He knew he had been with Dad all day so he would find out what he could from him before bothering Dean again.

Sam made his way downstairs to the kitchen where the other two were just sitting down at the table. Sam joined them.

"What's up with Dean?" Sam asked as he grabbed a dish and started spooning food on his plate.

"What do you mean?" John asked as he did the same.

"I don't know, he looks worn out or down or something. He said he's not eating cause he's tired. He went to bed."

"He told us he wasn't hungry." Bobby added to the conversation.

"I don't know." John sighed. "I may have upset him."

"How?" Sam questioned.

"I just wanted to talk to him. But, it didn't exactly go as planned. I guess neither of us really know how to talk about feelings and stuff. And, well, I don't exactly see things the way he does. That boy is just too damn innocent."

"He's simple." Sam corrected as he shoved a fork full of food in his mouth.

"Yeah. Yeah, he is." John agreed.

"What were you trying to talk to him about?" Sam asked around a mouth full of food.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." John first had to give his fatherly advice. "I was trying to talk to him about his childhood, all the feelings and crap that went along with it."

"Yeah, not the best subject with him."

"So, I've noticed. Why exactly isn't it?"

"Because its like you said, he doesn't see things the same. He's too simple. He doesn't carry all that crap with him. I mean, he does, but he doesn't see it."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, he doesn't blame anyone for anything. Well, anyone but himself that is. He thinks he deserves everything life gives him. I mean, we all know that's not the truth but it's how he feels. He doesn't hate anyone, he just keeps things as simple as he can. He's like a damn kid most of the time, innocent and childish." Sam chuckled.

"But…" He continued. "He does things he doesn't realize, like checking things for safety, or keeping himself positioned certain ways when he's in different situations or around different people. He guards himself a lot. I know it's a hunter thing too, but not all of it is, and he was doing it long before he became a strong hunter."

Sam forked another bite of food in his mouth. "If you pay attention you'll see what I mean." He added, speaking around the food he was chewing.

"Like how he always expects me to up and leave?"

"Yeah, that too. He doesn't trust anyone. He always expects everyone to leave. He doesn't depend on anyone but himself. He can't afford to, if he does, it just means he's gonna get hurt when the other person leaves."

John just nodded, understanding. "How's he been doing?" John asked after a brief moment of silence.

"Why don't you ask him for yourself?"

"Because he doesn't exactly give a straight answer all the time."

Sam laughed. "Yeah, I know what you mean. He's, uh, I'm not really sure. He's been really quiet and closed in on himself, but he still has nightmares. He tries to keep them silent when they wake him, but I'm a hunter too so it's not like I don't hear him, you know?"

"Yeah. I just wish I knew how to help him."

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes you gotta just give him space to figure things out on his own. Space and a whole lot of booze."

"Damn kid is just like his old man." Bobby grumbled.

The conversation ended with that comment. They sat and ate in silence the rest of the meal.


	60. Chapter 60

**CHAPTER 60**

After they finished eating Sam helped Bobby with clean up and dishes and John headed upstairs to check on Dean.

He knocked gently on the door as he pushed it open. "How you doing, Champ?" John asked as he sat on the edge of Dean's bed.

Dean rolled over to look at his dad, the light from the hall illuminating the man he always saw as a hero. "Just tired." Dean mumbled.

"Does that tiredness have anything to do with our talk earlier?"

Dean didn't reply, he just looked up at his dad unsure of what answer he wanted to hear, unsure of what his answer would even be.

"Dean, I didn't mean to upset you, son. I just wanted to make sure there wasn't anything we needed to talk about, nothing you're holding onto that you need to let go of. It, um, it didn't exactly go as I had planned."

"I think," Dean propped himself up on his elbow, laying on his side. "you have things you're holding onto that you need to let go of."

"Now isn't the time to worry about me."

"Dad. I always worry about you. You're my dad, that's my job. But if you're holding onto things that's bothering you then don't you think that affects me too?"

"I would hope it doesn't, but you being you, I'm sure it does."

"Especially when you come to me wanting to talk about things when I have no clue what you're wanting to talk about and all it does is confuse me."

"Yeah, sorry about that."

Dean sat up and positioned himself beside his dad. "So, what's eating at you? What the hell was up with all of that earlier?"

"I don't know." John ran a hand down his weary face. "I guess I just have so much guilt about things, and the more I learn about you and Sam, the more I'm around you and really see your behavior and sense your feelings, I realize what a fucked up dad I was."

Dean just shook his head. "You were not a fucked up dad. I don't know how many times I gotta tell you that. Dad. You did the best you could. You did what you thought was best for us, and as hard as some shit was, it only made us stronger. We wouldn't be the people we are today if life was different than it was."

"You're so damn smart, just like your mom was."

Dean gave a quick glimpse of a smile. "What do you feel so guilty about?"

John looked at Dean, when had his boy become a man. He was more of a man than John would ever be. Even in a time that he should be healing and most people would fall apart, he stood strong and worried about everyone else around him.

"I uh… the way I treated you, for starters."

"We already talked about that. I don't hold onto any of that. I don't let it bother me. What's done is done, move on."

"So, if I were to… say… take off my belt with the intention of using it on you, you wouldn't have any issue with it?"

"Talked about that too, that has nothing to do with you. That fear was created by someone else."

"How many times did I walk through the door of the place you boys were staying and you feared me?"

"Be more specific."

"How many times did fear of being hurt rise in you when I came home, from anywhere, a hunt, the bar, where ever?"

"I don't know, a couple times, maybe."

"That's all?"

"Yeah."

"Why did you ask me to be more specific?"

"Because, there's a difference between being scared for myself or being scared for Sam."

"How many times were you scared for Sam?"

"Everyday of my life."

"From me?"

"No."

"How many times were you scared for him because of me?"

"Honestly?"

"Yeah."

"Every time you came home. Until I could figure out what mood you were in or how drunk you were."

"So, what made you scared for him?"

"Had to keep him safe."

"From me?"

Dean shrugged. "From whatever the threat was at any given moment."

"Including me?"

"Yes sir."

"Why? What were you afraid of?"

"I couldn't let him get hurt, and I knew what the harsh training felt like, didn't want him to know too. Plus, I kinda made you out to be a superhero and I didn't want his vision of that to change."

"And me being around would change that?"

"If you were drunk enough, yeah."

"So, tell me. What did the harsh training feel like? Why didn't you want him to know what it was like?"

Dean drew in a ragged breath, his hands trembled in his lap, his heartrate was starting to pick up, quickly followed by his respiration. "Dad… I…"

"Dean, it's okay, what ever you have to say, I want to know. I want to know the truth."

"I just… I remember feeling alone. Like, really alone. And, I don't know, unloved? In a way? But, it was like, you know, you and Sam were in a warm place in warm beds, under covers, sleeping, and I'd be out… alone… freezing and alone, running. Because I did something stupid."

Dean tried to steady his hands but failed miserably. "I remember Sam would play or be spending time with you and I would have to do workouts until my body couldn't move. There were so many times I pushed myself to finish my training then I would collapse in the shower, I couldn't even get my legs to keep standing. But, it was like no one cared. Like I was struggling alone."

Dean looked up at his dad. "I didn't want Sam to know what that felt like."

"You shouldn't have known what it felt like either. I never meant to make you feel so alone. I just didn't know how to handle things. And, you were so strong, I would forget you were just a kid and not an adult."

Dean shrugged. "It's okay. Sammy was okay. He was safe and loved and that's all that mattered."

"No, Dean. When are you going to see that you matter too?"

"I don't."

"Damn it Dean!" John raised his voice louder than he meant to. "Why the hell can't you see how much you matter? When are you going to understand how damn important you are?"

Dean startled at the raise in his father's voice, turning almost into a shout. He didn't expect his own reaction. Things had been going good. They were having a relatively calm conversation. He didn't expect to startle the way he did. He didn't expect to pull himself away from his dad or close back into himself. He felt scolded. He suddenly had this anxiety that a punishment was coming.

If the only thing he had to deal with was his dad then it wouldn't be a big deal, but with everything that has happened recently, he has learned to see punishment in a completely different way. It was now something he feared. He knew how bad it could get. He knew how much it could hurt.

He didn't want to be hurt again. He didn't want to go back through the things he had been through. He knew what his dad had done to him, and suddenly the realization of it came into the light. His dad had raped him. Sure, he believed that creature had something to do with it, but still, his dad raped him. His dad forced him into something he didn't want. His dad hurt him. He could have killed him the way his face was pushed into the mattress, his oxygen held from him until he passed out.

And, he had made Sam try to do the same. He had told Sam to hurt him too. He said it was training. The same thing he had heard his whole life. All the pain and heartache was training. It always made him feel so alone and this was no different, what they had done to him in the name of training, made him feel equally as lonely.

He was fighting a battle inside himself. A battle only he knew about. A battle he was fighting alone. A battle he needed to stop. A battle that was driving him to the point of insanity. Insanity inside his own head. He was unstable, he knew it, even if no one else did. But, no matter how unstable he was there never seemed to be anything, or anyone, to hold onto. He just needed someone to be there. Someone to make him not alone. Someone to hold on to him. Someone to help him stand when his life shook.

Bobby seemed the closest thing he had to that right now. He wanted his dad. He wanted Sammy. But, neither of them would keep holding him. They both went their own way, they would be there, holding him up, then something would catch their attention and they would let go of him, letting him fall again. Leaving him alone again.

Alone was a bad place to be. Alone got him hurt. Either by his own hands or someone else's. But, somehow it always ended up in pain.

"DEAN!" John shouted, pulling Dean's attention back to him.

He stared, wide eyed, expressionless, scared.

"Dean?" John repeated his name calmer this time. "You back with me, son?"

Dean swallowed hard, his eyes darted around the room.

"Dean! Answer me!"

"I… I don't… I'm sorry, please don't sir."

"Dean? Don't what?"

"I… I can't… take any… more. Please don't punish me sir."

"What have you done to be punished for?"

"I… I upset you." Confusion laced his facial features. He wasn't sure what was going on, he didn't know what he had done or who he was speaking to.

He slowly started realizing it was his dad in front of him, but even with that realization coming into the light he was confuses why he was speaking to his dad the way he was. He wasn't sure what had happened, what he had done wrong.

"Dean. You didn't upset me. I'm sorry I raised my voice earlier. I didn't mean to, I just got frustrated because no matter how much good you do you don't seem to ever see the worth in yourself."

"I'm sorry." Dean said as he dropped his head, trying to clear his head of the fogginess that had blurred his lines between memories and reality.

"Dean, son. You have nothing to be sorry for."

"Dad?" Dean's mind started clearing.

"Yeah?"

"I… I'm not… I don't know… what's going on?"

"You and me were talking and I got a little frustrated and raised my voice. I didn't mean to, it just happened. And, you startled and got lost inside yourself. You back with me now?"

"I… I think so… I feel really tired."

"He always feels tired after a bad flashback or emotional breakdown like that. All his energy gets drained from the emotions he fights in his head." Sam informed his dad.

Dean looked up and over at his brother. He was sitting on his own bed watching the interaction between Dean and their dad. When Dean started losing himself, and John tried so desperately to bring him back around, the commotion got Sam's attention and he had come give his dad some help.

Basically, the only help he had to give was for his dad to leave Dean be. He said it would pass in a few minutes. Sam had seen Dean zone out several times. Sometimes something small would happen and take his mind back, but sometimes it was just something in his head that made him leave the present.

John wasn't satisfied with that so he continued to try to call his name and shake him out of it. His actions made the incident last longer, keeping Dean locked inside himself tighter. Just like Sam warned him it would. He figured, he had to learn how to handle Dean on his own so their dad would have to do the same. Especially if he wasn't going to listen to Sam's advice.

"Dean, it's okay, son. I just got you back, don't slip away again, not right now."

Dean sighed.

"Dad, he's just going to go in and out of confusion and who knows what other emotions if you don't let him sleep it off."

Sam warned, again, not moving, just observing. He was ready to step in and help Dean if need be, but for now, his dad needed to learn how to handle Dean.

"Sam!" John's voice held a warning.

"Sam, stop, please, don't get yourself hurt." Dean begged, too confused to move to protect his brother.

"Dean, I'm not going to hurt your brother!"

"Sorry, sir." Dean spoke the words as instantly as he could.

"Dean!"

Dean's eyes widened and filled with fear.

"Don't you do this again!" John warned as he watched Dean's mind start slipping away.

"Dad, you need to let him sleep it off." Sam warned again.

"Sam, I know what I'm doing."

"Oh, really? Because you're doing a bang up job at it right now!"

"Sam! You just have to keep him in the present, it's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? I'm sorry, have you been the one who wakes in the middle of the night with his nightmares? Are you the one who calms him when his memories wake you before they do him? Are you the one who deals with his flashbacks and breakdowns when he's alone?"

"If it's that damn bad then why the hell don't you say something?"

"Because, Dean is my brother and I'd do anything for him, even if it means waking in the middle of the night to calm him. He did it for so many years for me, I can return the favor."

"Right. I forgot, you think I've abandoned you, leaving you on the streets to fend for yourselves. You think I'm the devil himself! You're never satisfied with anything! You always think you know everything. Well, guess what! You're not as damn smart as you think you are!"

"Will you two stop, please?" Dean was barely audible over their raised voices.

He sat pushed in the corner of his bed, his hands pulled up covering his ears. His hands trembling. Tears in his eyes. His jaw tightened.

"Dean?" Sam stopped and lowered his voice, making his way to his brother's side.

"Please, Sam, please. I can't. Please stop." Dean pleaded.

"I'm sorry. It's okay. Don't worry about what Dad says, okay? Lay down, sleep. You'll feel better, I promise."

"I… I can't."

"Why not?"

"I can't disobey. I can't handle another punishment."

"Dean." Sam sat on the edge of the bed by his brother. "No one is going to punish you for anything. You got that? I'll make sure of that. If you're worried then you can go lay in Bobby's room. But, you'll be safe no matter where you are."

"Just stop arguing, please."

"Okay. I'm done. I'm sorry."

Sam looked over at their dad, giving him a look that said he needed to tell Dean the same. He needed to reassure him that everything was okay.

"Dean. I'm done fighting with your brother and no one is going to hurt you or punish you for anything. I'm sorry. I just don't understand why you think I'm going to."

Dean shrugged. He didn't understand it either. Especially right now.

"It's okay for Dean to laydown and get the rest he needs, isn't it Dad?"

Sam was done sitting back watching Dean suffer through his dad's stubbornness. He held authority in his voice, one that said the argument had just begun if he didn't allow Dean what he needed.

"Yeah, it's okay. Lay down, get you some rest. You'll feel better." John said with a huff and defeated sigh and walked out of the room.

Dean looked to his little brother for reassurance that he hadn't just done something wrong, that he hadn't just messed up somehow.

"It's okay." Sam said with a reassuring pat to Dean's leg. "Dad's just in a mood. He doesn't understand things right now. You haven't done anything wrong." Sam sighed.

Dean didn't reply, he just pushed himself out of the corner and laid his head on his pillow, curled into a fetal position on his bed.

"Get you some rest, you're exhausted." Sam said as he stood and made his way out of the room.

Dean woke to a darkened room. Sam's light snores were filling the room. The light in the hallway was turned off, indicating everyone was in bed, asleep. Dean quietly made his way out of his bed and down the stairs. He snuck into Bobby's office and flipped on the computer, finding the articles he had looked at earlier.

There was a pattern, every 3 months a child, no older than 12, would disappear. They always seemed to show up 2 ½ months later, exactly 2 weeks before the next kid went missing. They would come back with no memories of what had happened and loss of some of the memories they had before they were abducted.

They came back with identical, strange, marks of them. It appeared something was placed through their veins, the reasoning was unknown. They came back with bruises covering their bodies, burn marks on each side of their heads, and what appeared to be drill marks through different sections of their bones. That was the only thing that was different between each kid, the location of the drill holes.

The article said they were sure it was alien abductions in their small town and those towns surrounding them. It was in the desert of Nevada, there had always been suspicion of aliens in that area, this just made the stories more appealing and the nonbelievers said they thought the locals were hurting their own children for the attention.

The last child to go missing was 2 months ago. That meant they would expect him back in 2 weeks, and another to go missing 2 weeks after that. The ones who were taken seemed to live normal lives after their return. The family members reported something being 'off' about them but figured it was due to the unknown trauma caused by the aliens.

Dean shook his head. There was no such thing as aliens. But, he didn't have a clue what it could be. This was it, Dean had decided this was the hunt he was going to go out on. Either he would figure this out and save the kids or he would die trying. He had two weeks to figure out what was taking them, and why, before the kid returned. Then, another 2 weeks to perfect his plan before another child went missing.

He stayed up the rest of the night researching and looking through Bobby's books. As the sun started peaking through the darkness he erased his history on the computer and put the books away. He then quickly and quietly made his way back to his room, getting himself back in bed before anyone woke, especially before Sam woke.

He closed his eyes, knowing the day was going to be long and exhausting, especially after the incidents with his dad yesterday. He had no desire to face the world today. He would be satisfied with sleeping the day away, until nightfall, when he could be alone again, alone to research his findings. Alone to plan his own ending.


	61. Chapter 61

**CHAPTER 61**

After his failed attempts at staying in bed and having everyone leave him alone, Dean grumbled and mumbled as he rolled out of bed and headed to the shower. Sam insisted that he get up and face the world. He said some crap about it not being good for him to stay in bed all day and how he needed to be part of the family.

But, when had the family ever been part of him? Sure, he does what he has to in order to satisfy everyone, but no one worries about satisfying him. Right now, they just saw him as a broken soul in front of them. Pity and sorrow filling each of them.

Dean stepped into the steamy water that flowed from the shower head. He enjoyed the sting that the hot water brought when it pricked his skin. It reminded him he was still human. It reminded him that he still had feelings and could still hurt. It reminded him he was still somebody.

Somebody who no one else seemed to see. They only saw his brokenness, their need to fix him. But, he didn't need fixing, what he needed was to get back to his normal life. Things would work themselves out, they always did.

He was so weak in their eyes, unable to even care for himself. He wasn't the person they saw, he knew he wasn't. The only reason he wanted to stay in bed was because he didn't want to face their ridicule and failed attempts at fixing something that wasn't broken. It wasn't because of the depression bull crap Sam talked about.

Besides, what did it matter if he was alone in the darkness of his room? It's not like he didn't live in that lonely darkness anyhow.

He stepped out of the shower, taking a long look at himself in the mirror. He noticed his weakening look. He was much more skinnier than he had been in the past and his features didn't hold the same excitement for life they once held.

Was his family right? Was he really that broken? Was he too weak to be of any importance anymore? Did he really need to be fixed?

The hard knock at the door startled Dean from his thoughts.

"Hey, Jerk, stop jacking off in there. You had better left some hot water!"

Dean rolled his eyes at his little brother. Everyone around him seemed to be their normal selves so why is it that Dean couldn't manage the same?

He stepped out of the bathroom with his towel around his waist. "Shower's all yours, Bitch." He replied as he threw his dirty boxers in his brother's face.

"Ew! That's gross Dean!" Sam complained as Dean made his way into the now empty room.

He threw on his new attire, Sweatpants, t-shirt, and hoodie. Followed by socks and tennis shoes. He paused a moment to sit on the edge of his bed and decide how he was going to handle the day. He was exhausted from being up all night. But, he couldn't let the others know that was the reason why.

He had decided he would plaster his smile on his face, say all the right things, then make his way out to the junkyard. No one would question him if he went out there. He would work out, build his strength back. He only had 2 weeks to make something of himself. He didn't have time to sleep the day away.

With a sigh he stood from his bed and made his way downstairs where the two older men were sitting with their cups of coffee and newspapers.

"What's for breakfast?" Dean asked as he descended the stairs, getting both of the men's attention.

"Bacon, eggs and pancakes in the kitchen." Bobby grumbled from behind his newspaper.

"You had me at bacon!" Dean smiled as he made his way to the waiting food.

So far so good. He was acting normal. As much as he didn't care about eating he knew it was needed to build his strength, especially with the day he had planned for himself. He dropped a strip of bacon in his mouth as he poured the syrup on his stack of cakes. He then grabbed a few more pieces of bacon and put them on his plate. He had just sat down to eat, taking his second bite of food when Sam entered the room.

"You eat all the food like you used the hot water? Or did you decide to leave something for me for a change?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Dude, there's plenty, stop being a whiney bitch." He slurred out around the food in his mouth.

"You'd be a whiney bitch too if you had to take a cold shower."

"Maybe you needed it?"

"Ha ha. Very funny, Dean. I'm not the one who spent an hour in the shower whacking off."

"I wasn't whacking off, and it wasn't an hour."

"Damn near it!"

"Whatever! Eat your food, Sammy."

Dean was shoveling his food in his mouth as fast as he could eat it, which he honestly hadn't realized. He had his mind set on other things and wanted to get them started as soon as possible.

"Use up all your energy on your hand job?"

"What?" Dean paused, looking up at Sam in confusion.

"You're eating like you've never seen food your entire life. I asked if you used up all your energy on your hand job, and need to replenish it quickly."

"Whatever."

"Mhm, don't worry, Dean, your hand will still be there for round two when you're finished."

"Grow up, Sam." Dean mumbled around another bite.

"You're the one eating like a child."

Dean dropped his fork on his plate, the clinging sound echoed through the room. Frustrated, Dean quickly stood to his feet, grabbed his plate and threw the rest of his food in the trash.

"Wow, who needs to grow up?" Sam sat back, his arms folded across his chest, watching Dean wash his plate.

"Shut up, Sammy." Dean's voice held a warning in it.

"Or what?" Sam challenged him back.

Dean quickly spun around to look at his brother. He didn't even want to bother with this. He had a case to solve, kids to save. This did not fit into his plans for the day.

"Just shut up." Dean sighed as he attempted to walk out of the room.

"Or what?" Sam questioned again. "Or you'll make me? What are you going to do? I'm pretty sure you wouldn't even be a challenge right now! I could take you down without even trying!"

Dean quickly turned back to his brother. "What the hell's your point? I didn't say anything about fighting you, or making you do anything. I just asked you to shut up!" Dean yelled back as he quickly turned and exited the home.

John and Bobby sat in their seats, watching the boys. Neither of them were willing to step in unless needed. They knew this was going to be part of their healing.

"Go easy on him." John spoke as Sam stomped into the room they were sitting.

"Oh, don't worry. I don't have a choice but to go easy on him, he's too damn weak not to."

"Sam." John warned.

"Whatever! When the hell are we going to get back out there? Do what the hell we're supposed to do? You know, kill things, save people, find the thing that killed Mom and Jess."

"When your brother is ready."

"Which is going to be when? Huh? Do you actually think he's going to ever be strong enough to face the things he needs to face? Or is he going to just freak out as soon as something touches him, or looks at him wrong?"

"Sam, that was a low blow, and you know it."

"Yeah? Well, it's the damn truth too!" Sam shouted as he stormed up the stairs.

Dean had exited the house, but leaned his back against the side by the door. He was upset, and that was not in his plans for today either. He took the time to stop and breathe, then he heard his dad and brother raising their voices at each other.

Every bit of instinct in him wanted to rush in there and stand between the two of them before it turned physical. That is, until he heard what Sam had to say. He was loud enough Dean didn't have any trouble hearing him through the door.

He drew in a deep sigh and lowered his head. He felt like what little was left inside of him had just shattered. He made his way across the junkyard. He still had kids to save, or, hopefully, he wouldn't, his plan was to die trying. To go out fighting. To go out the hunter's way.

But, maybe his brother was right? Maybe he would never be strong enough, but, he figured it didn't matter, after all he didn't have any plans of returning from the hunt he was preparing for.

He was hidden from view. The only way anyone would see him is if they came out there looking for him. He dropped to the ground and started forcing himself to do the pushups his dad always used for training. His dad's words rang through his head as motivation to push through the pain and exhaustion.

Once he was finished with that, it was on to the sit ups. His body shook and his breath was ragged. He hadn't trained in so long. He hadn't done any workouts in months. Once the sit ups were complete, he took an old couch cushion and attached it to the side of a car, then started his boxing and punching techniques. He didn't stop until he had punched through the cushion, leaving his knuckles busted and bloody.

He then dropped back to the ground, doing another round of push ups and sit ups. The day was a hot one. By the time he finished he had removed both his t-shirt and hoodie. He was wishing he had brought some water out with him. He knew his body needed it, but that would mean going back inside and facing his family.

He used the door frame of the old building he was beside to do chin ups and lift himself. His arms shook, his body ached. His head started spinning when he lost his grip and landed flat on his stomach on the ground. He landed with a grunt of pain, unable to move for a moment as the air was knocked out of him.

Finally, he was able to roll over onto his back. He huffed and puffed and worked on getting his much needed breaths back in order. He could feel his head spinning and his eyesight was starting to cross and go double. He knew he had exhausted himself. He knew he needed to hydrate himself.

With a groan of pain and exhaustion he pushed himself off the ground, grabbing his clothes he had removed, and stumbled his way back into the house.

His hair dripped, his face and body had dried as his body was no longer hydrated enough to produce the sweat to keep him cool. His breath was ragged. His pants were soaked from the sweat that once poured off of him. He was covered in dirt from falling on the ground. His face was as red as it could get, his knuckles busted and covered in dried blood.

His eyesight was blurring. He knew there were people sitting on the couch when he stumbled in, but he wasn't sure who it was. He thought maybe someone said something, but he couldn't be sure through the ringing in his ears. He stumbled into the kitchen, using memory not sight, and made his way to the sink. He dipped his head under it and gulped at the water that poured out of it.

He felt someone pull at his shoulder, pushing him away from the sink. He would have fought back, he wanted to fight back, but he was too damn exhausted.

"Here." Bobby said as he pushed a large glass of ice cold water into Dean's hands.

Dean, unsure of who had just given it to him, gulped at what felt like heaven to him. It didn't take him long to finish it, then suddenly it was refilled. He drank at it while the hand that was on his back guided him away from where he was standing. He didn't know why, but he didn't care as long as the heaven in his hands, the heaven that was dripping down this throat, never stopped.

He was sat on the couch. He could tell by the softness of the cushions. Out of pure exhaustion, Dean leaned his body to the side, being stopped by the body who sat at the other end of the couch.

He unknowingly laid against his dad. His body shivered as it tried to adjust its temperature. Bobby had gotten him some ice water and kept it filled, then placed a cool, wet towel around the back of his neck.

"What the hell your boy gotten himself into, Winchester?"

"Hell if I know! Kid's got a mind of his own."

"Well, he's lucky, he damn near killed himself out there."

"Yeah, I'm thinking a cold shower would do him some good once he's able to stand again."

Dean's body shivered again as he dropped the glass out of his hand, dumping the water out as it hit the floor.

"All right, that's it. We're getting you in the shower to cool down, then to bed." John ordered.

"Mmmmm good. Iiii'll be strong. Promise." Dean mumbled

"I don't know what the hell is going through your head boy, but this sure as hell ain't looking like strength to me." John replied with frustration as he half carried his son up the stairs and to the bathroom.

He put him in the tub and let the ice cold water fall from the shower head until the redness was out of his face and his body shivered from the coldness instead of the heat. John then helped him out of the tub and removed his wet clothing.

"No…. dad… please…" Dean begged in a desperate whisper when his dad undressed him.

"Damn it, Dean. No one is going to hurt you! Why the hell can't you get that through your thick skull? I gotta get these wet clothes off you."

Dean wanted to fight against his dad. He wanted to keep him from undressing him, but he couldn't. He had exhausted his body to the max and John was working against him with full strength.

Panic started rising in the clouded confusion. His dad was undressing him. Another man, touching him. Again. Hands. Oh god, the hands were leading him somewhere. A bed. The mattress. No no no. Not the mattress. Not again. Anything but that, please!

He wanted to fight, he wanted to scream, but he couldn't. The only thing he could do was allow the hands to put him in the position of their choosing. He must have passed out. He didn't remember passing out, but then again, he didn't remember the hands hurting him either. And, now they were gone. He was under the covers on the mattress without hands touching him. Was he safe again?

He closed his eyes and let the darkness consume him. He was exhausted and every inch of him ached.

"Dean, hey there, you need to wake up now." John's voice stirred in Dean's ears as he sat beside his oldest son, on the edge of his bed, and gently rubbed his arm to arouse him.

Dean fluttered his eyes opened with a moan.

"Hey there, Dean-o, you need to get up and eat dinner."

"mm not h'gry." Dean groaned out with a twinge of pain as he shifted his body.

John gave Dean a gentle, yet firm, pat to the shoulder. "It wasn't a request."

"Yes sir." Dean sighed as he groaned with the ache in his body as he stood.

He knew his dad was right. He knew he needed to eat, especially if he was going to get his strength back and go on the hunt he had planned. So, with minimal disagreement he made his way to the table where everyone was sitting.

"About time you decided to get your ass out of bed." Sam grumbled.

"Seriously?" Dean was beyond frustrated with his brother by this point.

"Yeah, seriously! If you didn't go out and try to kill yourself every time we turned around then maybe you wouldn't need to sleep everything off so much."

Dean rolled his eyes. "That's not what I was doing."

"Well, that's what the hell it looked like."

"Well, that's not what the hell it was."

"Then what was it? Huh?"

"Dude, I don't even know what the hell you're talking about."

"You don't remember coming inside the house earlier?" Bobby questioned with concern.

"I mean, yeah, kind of. I wasn't feeling so hot so I came back inside, and I remember my vision was kind of blurry. But, I don't really remember anything else."

"Oh, trust me, you were feeling plenty hot enough." Bobby chuckled with a shake of his head. "You damn near did yourself in out there in that heat without having anything to drink. What the hell were you doing out there anyhow?"

"Just messing around with some things." Dean knew that would be a good enough answer for Bobby.

"Well, next time you feel like going out and messing around with things, in this heat, bring you some water will ya?"

"Yes sir." Dean said shyly as he worked on finishing his food as quickly as he could without looking like he was in a rush.

He had no patients right now. He didn't want to deal with his brother's attitude or his dad's need to fix him. He wanted to be left alone, he wanted to get his strength built back up, he wanted to die trying to save those kids.

Once he was finished he pushed his chair back and stood, taking his dishes to the sink then grabbing a bottle of water. He started making his way to the front door without saying a word to anyone.

"Where the hell you going?" John questioned.

"Out."

"Think that's a good idea?"

"It's a hell of a lot better than staying in here, besides," Dean held up his bottle of water. "I got hydration." He said sarcastically as he turned back toward the door.

"Boy, you best watch that damn attitude of yours!" John held a warning in his tone.

Dean quickly spun back around, facing his dad. "Or what? Huh? You gonna beat it out of me? Or, you just gonna make useless threats?"

"Dean!" John's voice was stern.

"Oh, wait, that's right. I forgot. You think I'm too damn weak to be able to take anyone's crap. You think I'm too weak to take a beating. That's right." He raised his eyebrows and stared John down with his hands outstretched beside him. "Guess that means you're just going to sit there and make threats you can't follow through on, huh?"

"Boy, if you don't watch your mouth I will follow through on whatever I damn well please."

"Whatever!" Dean huffed as he turned his back to his dad and took a step toward the door.

Before he knew what had happened John's hand was on his shoulder and he had spun Dean back around to look at him.

"Don't you turn your back on me!"

"Or what?" Dean questioned with sass. "I'll do whatever I damn well please!"

Before he had a chance to stop it, or even see what was coming, John's fist connected with the side of Dean's face.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted out angrily as he returned the punch.

Another blow connected with Dean's stomach, causing him to fold over, and an elbow met the middle of his back. He reached out and grabbed his dad's legs and pulled them out from under him, causing him to fall flat on his back.

He kicked his foot and made a hard blow to Dean's chin, splitting it open and causing the blood to start pouring out. It didn't stop him. He continued to fight his dad, matching him blow for blow.

Dean's knee jammed into John's stomach as John's elbow made Dean feel like his head was being turned all the way around when it hit his cheek. Another blow to John's face and John had wrapped his legs around Dean's waist, forcing him into a tumble and turn so that he was now on his back with John on top of him.

Blow after blow met Dean's face. He had quit matching his dad's blows and started trying to protect himself instead. He couldn't say anything, couldn't barely breathe. John's knee ended up in the middle of Dean's chest, pushing his entire weight into him. His other leg was positioned between Dean's legs, his knee pressed against his groin.

His fists alternated between his face and the sides of his ribs. Dean tried to push his dad off. He tried to block his punches. He tried to scream, to tell him to get off him. But, nothing he did seemed to matter. He threw some blind punches, connecting his fists with his dad's body, unsure of where he was hitting.

Panic boiled over inside of him. His head spun. His mind screamed. His stomach turned. With one final burst of willingness he flipped his body around, putting his dad on the ground.

John had grabbed him and rolled him with his body. Dean was now on his stomach, on top of his dad. John's arms were wrapped tightly around him, holding him against his chest.

Dean started trying to push himself away, tried catching the breath that was missing from his lungs.

"Dad. Please." Dean puffed out with what little breath he could get out.

"John! That's enough!" Bobby's voice echoed through the room.

John loosened his grip on Dean and he pushed himself away from his dad. He only made it a slight crawl away before he emptied his stomach on the floor.

Bobby knelt beside Dean and rubbed his back. "Take it easy there, boy."

Dean was still fighting to catch his breath, his body shaking.

John made his way to the other side of his son and placed his hand on Dean's back.

"Get off me!" Dean angrily pushed his dad away.

"Dean, stand down!" John ordered.

"Get. Away. From. Me." Dean huffed out as he pushed his shaking body away from his dad.

"I'd suggest, if you're gonna keep disrespecting me, you learn how to pull your big girl panties up and deal with it." John spat out with anger filling his tone, matching his body language.

Dean sat on the floor as his dad stood beside him. He felt so small sitting there, looking up at his dad. He felt like a kid again. The anger on his dad's face was unwavering. Dean could see John's fists tremble with the want to fly through the air at him again. His jaw trembled with the anger that had built up inside of him.

Dean pushed himself off the floor, standing eye to eye with his dad.

"What's the matter? Didn't beat me enough to satisfy you?" Dean challenged his dad's anger.

"Stand. Down. Now." John spat each word out with an angry breath.

"Or what?" Dean challenged again.

John's hand wrapped around Dean's throat, pushing him backwards and landing on the couch. John pushed his knee into Dean's stomach and pressed his hand tighter against his throat.

"Is this what you want?" John's voice shook with the emotions that drove his actions. "You want someone to beat the hell out of you? Haven't got enough of that yet?"

Dean grabbed for his dad's arm, trying to pull his hand away from his throat. He was unable to breathe, no matter how hard he tried. The pressure against his throat felt like it was being crushed. The knee to his stomach pressed harder and harder as John shifted his body weight against him.

Bobby tried to grab at John's shoulder and pull him away. "That's enough, Winchester."

But John just shrugged him off and pushed harder against Dean.

He grabbed Dean's hair with his other hand, pulling his face to look directly at him. "Does this make you feel like a man?" John spit out at him as he shifted his knee from his stomach to his groin, pressing hard against him.

Dean pulled his hand from his dad's arm and tried to push his knee away from him. As the pain grew the expression on Dean's face changed. Panic was filling him, he needed to breathe.

"DAD!" Sam shouted as he tried to pull him off his brother, only to get shoved backwards onto the floor.

"Is that what you want?" John questioned, placing all his body weight on his knee.

Dean pushed at his dad's waist, trying to get him to move. Trying to get his weight to shift, even just a little. But, he didn't have any luck.

John then loosened his grip around his son's throat, allowing him to take in a deep breath before closing it off once again. He shifted his body so his knee was back in his stomach and he moved his free hand down to grab Dean where his knee had just been.

He leaned in close to Dean, his body pressing against his, his mouth beside his ear. "Is this what you're wanting?" He said quietly in his ear, only loud enough for Dean to hear. "You want to be raped again? Or, are you just going to be a willing participant now?"

Dean bucked his body in an attempt to get his dad to move off him.

John laughed as he released his hold on his son and pushed himself to a standing position. "Try me again, boy."

He spat out his words at his shaking, fear filled son as he gasped for much needed air.

"Like I said, think you're going to act that way toward me? I'd suggest you put your big girl panties on next time." And, with that John was gone, he had made his way up the stairs and to his room.


	62. Chapter 62

**CHAPTER 62**

Dean rolled his body to his side in a laying position on the couch, he curled his legs to his chest, one hand wrapped tightly around his stomach, the other hand applying light pressure between his legs, in an attempt to ease the pain.

He let out a painful moan as he let his body fall to its side. He coughed for a few minutes as he worked on catching his breath, which only seemed to make the pain that much more intense.

Both, Bobby and Sam had tried to help him, but he told them both to get away from him and leave him alone. His mind was a tangled mess. They didn't hear what his dad had said to him, sure they knew he said something, but didn't know what.

Between his dad's words and the feeling of being violated again his anxiety kicked up a few notches. The fact he had just got the hell beat out of him and had been pinned down, several times, only had panic in high gear.

He didn't want anyone touching him. He needed to be left alone, he needed to not have anyone else touch him. He suddenly started scrambling to get himself off the couch, the pain keeping a firm hold on him.

Bobby grabbed a nearby trash can, knowing the look on Dean's face, and held it under his head that hung from the couch. He placed a gentle hand on Dean's back, stopping him from struggling to get up anymore, and reassuring him that he had him taken care of.

This time, Dean's vomit wasn't just the remainder of the dinner he had just ate, it was mixed with blood, too much blood, enough blood it had Bobby concerned.

Dean's body weakly trembled as he tried to push himself back onto the couch. He wanted to push Bobby away, but didn't have the strength, as he helped Dean settle back comfortably on the couch.

Sam had gotten Bobby a cool, damp rag to wash away the blood on Dean's face.

"Hey, Dean." Bobby's voice was as gentle as his touch as he wiped Dean's face with the rag. "I need you to open your eyes for me, okay?"

Dean moaned and managed to open his eyes half way. He looked up at Bobby's concerned face, then glanced to Sam's. His dad was no where around, it was only the three of them.

Weakness. Damn, Dean felt so weak at that moment. He knew he looked just as weak. He didn't want to look weak, he was trying to rebuild his strength.

"I'm good." Dean mumbled as he lifted his arm and brushed Bobby's hand away.

"Yeah, sure you are." Bobby grumbled as he started to help Dean since he insisted on sitting up.

"Just leave me alone." Dean huffed out, breathless, as he placed his face in his hands to catch his breath and let the pain ease away.

"You damn idjit!" Bobby grumbled out with frustration.

Dean and Sam both lifted their heads and stared at Bobby.

"You damn near got yourself killed this morning, and now this. You got you a death wish or something, boy?"

"I said I'm fine, leave me alone!" Dean pushed himself to a standing position.

Sam reached out and grabbed Dean's arm, helping to keep his swaying body from falling on the floor.

"I'm good." Dean mumbled as he jerked his arm away from his brother and half stumbled to the door.

"Where the hell you think you're going?" Bobby asked, his voice still filled with frustration.

"Out."

The door closed behind Dean. He leaned against the side of the house. One of his eyes was swollen half closed, his face full of bruises and busted skin from the strength his dad held. His head spun and his vision made the world wave around in front of him.

But, he didn't need his vision. He knew his way around the junk yard. He knew where he was going without sight. He stumbled, using the cars for support, until he ended in the small, old, half fallen down building in the back of the old junk cars.

He collapsed unto the ground, breathless and shaking. He released a moan of pain as his body curled into the fetal position. His jaw tightened as tight as his gritted his teeth. His eyes were closed as tight as they could go. The veins in his neck popped out with the tightness of his painful face.

After giving himself a few minutes to express the pain he was in, he stretched his body out straight, placing himself on his stomach, and started forcing himself to do pushups.

He had wanted that fight with his dad. He didn't stop it, if anything he had started it. He knew being disrespectful would piss his dad off. He wanted to know where he stood with his strength and fighting skills. He was proud of himself, even though he knew he shouldn't be. He had held his own, he matched his dad at the beginning. He even managed to take him down.

It wasn't until his dad ended up on top of him, it wasn't until his mind started losing its concentration. Memories flooded back and fear filled him with panic. It wasn't until then that he started to lose his fight. His damn memories. The damn fear and panic that they brought. The thoughts had taken him away from the moment.

He rolled himself onto his back, giving a groan of pain in the process, and started his sit ups.

One. Two. Three. Four. Five. So many numbers. He wondered how many he could count to. He wondered how many he needed to count to in order to come up with the number of men that have been inside of him. Damn. He didn't even know. He didn't even know who or what had been inside of his own body. He didn't know how many. He didn't know. How the hell could someone not know?

And, now, his dad was threatening him with that? He knew his dad liked to use things he knew scared him as threats, but that was a below the belt blow, literally. His dad. His dad. He had already taken it once. Maybe it wasn't just a threat? Sure, he blamed it on the creature, but maybe it wasn't? Maybe it was something more?

NO! He couldn't let himself believe that. If he did, that would mean it wasn't the creature that had taken over Sammy either, and he couldn't allow himself to even think that thought. His head slammed against the ground as his body fell backwards, uncontrolled. No longer able to complete anymore sit ups.

Dean closed his eyes, allowing his breath to slow and his thoughts to calm. Every inch of his body ached. Every muscle felt like it was trembling.

Strength. He needed strength. He would go head to head with his dad one more time before he left out, but he needed to build his strength a little better. He needed to somehow keep the memories from flooding back.

Maybe his dad's threat wasn't such a bad ideal after all. Maybe if he approached his dad with the chance to take what he wanted, to carry through with his threat, that would get him used it, if he was used to it then it wouldn't bother him anymore, right?

He pushed himself on his hands and knees and used the wall to pull his body to a standing position. He grabbed onto the door frame and lifted his body from the ground. Doing chin ups with a trembling, aching body wasn't as easy as he had hoped it would be. He completed one full chin up and two partial ones before he lost his grip and slammed against the ground with a grunt.

He rolled back onto his side and released the bloody vomit that had been threatening to rise in his throat for a while now. He then curled his body into a tight ball.

The thought of his dad touching him, the thought of any other guy touching him, having sex with him, it made his stomach turn with sickness. He couldn't. There was no way he could bring himself to face that again. It's not what he wanted. The thought, the images, made him feel sick.

He needed to stop the memories. He needed to keep the fear and panic away. He didn't know what he would be up against. What if he was in a battle and something, or someone, made their way on top of him? What if they touched him 'there'? Would he be able to handle it? Or would he lose his fight because of some stupid, weak, childish fear?

He had decided not to move. His body was too sore, too unsteady to move anyhow. If he went back into the house this way he would look too weak. He knew he looked weak when he walked out, but he couldn't face them, not still looking as weak as he did.

He let the coolness of the night comfort him. His world had turned dark long ago, his eyes no longer able to hold themselves opened. His sight no long able to see what was around him. Not that it really mattered since every time he would open his eyes his world would shift and move around him, leaving him feeling dizzy and sick.

His body shivered under the stress it had been put through as his mind slipped into unconsciousness.

"Hey, there Dean-o." John's voice and touch to Dean's shoulder startled him awake.

He cringed with the pain that flooded through his body. As he jumped his eyes tried to open. Only one eye seemed to be able to fully cooperate. "Leave. Me. Alone." Dean huffed out between breaths that masked the pain he was in.

"You sleep out here all night?"

"What does it matter?" Dean mumbled as he tried to get his brain to work. Truth was, he wasn't even sure exactly what he had done after the fight with Dad.

"It matters because your face is laying in a pool of bloody vomit."

Dean hadn't even realized. His face was sticking to the vomit his stomach had released while he slept. He was glad he was on his side or he was sure he would have suffocated on his own vomit.

"What the hell do you care?" Dean groaned as he pushed himself into a seated position with shaky arms.

John reached out and helped steady his son. "Dean, I'm sorry about last night. I took things a little too far, but that doesn't mean I don't give a damn."

"Don't touch me." Dean shrugged his shoulder, trying to push his dad's hand away.

"Stop being so damn stubborn. What the hell are you doing out here anyhow?"

"Taking a vacation." Dean sarcastically answered as he tried to make his way to the wall for the support he needed to stand but failed.

John stopped Dean from his struggling. "Dean, stop being so damn stubborn!"

"I'm not weak!"

"No one said anything about you being weak. What the hell is going on with you?"

Dean just shook his head as he finally got close enough to reach out to the wall and use it to help him stand. He hadn't expected his legs to be so shaky and give out on his so quickly.

John was there in an instant. His arms outstretched and wrapped around his son as Dean collapsed into his chest instead of falling to the ground.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean groaned out in pain as his body tensed under the sudden shift of his body.

"Whoa, take it easy there, Champ."

"Mmmm fine."

"Like hell you are!"

"Le'me alone."

"Not gonna happen, your ass is going back inside the house where you can rest properly and get these damn wounds taken care of."

"Don't need help. I'm strong enough to take care 'f myself."

"Yeah, okay Dean. Then how about you walk yourself to the damn house?"

Dean pushed away from his dad and started stumbling toward the house, he used the cars as his support, the same way he did on his way out of the house. He was determined to show his dad he could be strong. No matter how much it hurt. His determination was stronger than the pain.

John stayed close behind his son, ready to catch him if he fell. He was feeling guilty about what he had done. He knew the fight was a fair one, that Dean pushed him into it. He wasn't sure exactly why, but he was sure he took things a little farther than he should have, and Bobby was sure to give him an earful when he woke up this morning.

Dean made his way to the steps and was breathless. His body exhausted and unable to lift his leg to take the first step up. He paused at the railing and leaned against it, trying to catch his breath, trying to steady his body.

"Come on, Dean, I got'cha." John said as he placed a hand on Dean's back.

"Not weak, don't need your help."

"What the hell, man? Why do you keep saying that?"

"You, Sam, Bobby… you all three think I'm too weak to do anything." Dean let his body slip down the rail and end in a seated position on the bottom step. "You think I won't be strong enough to hunt anymore."

"Dean, we don't think that."

"Don't lie to me!" Dean shouted.

"I'm not lying, Dean."

John looked up at the door, both Bobby and Sam stepped out when they heard Dean yell at his dad. John was seated on the step above Dean, sitting across from him.

"I promise you, we don't think you're never going to be strong enough to hunt again. It's just taking longer than I expected."

"I'm sorry." Dean sighed, dropping his head, resting his chin against his chest.

"Hey, there's nothing to be sorry about. Besides, I gotta admit, there at first, you were holding your own, it was a damn near equal match."

"Yeah." Dean agreed with a quick grin. "Then my damn brain had to kick up the dust."

"Yeah? What dirt did it kick up?"

Dean shrugged. "I mean, I started getting panicked and felt trapped when… uh… when you rolled on top of me and I couldn't seem to get it to work right after that. It just kept bringing old shit up."

"Old shit as in really old shit? Or old shit as in the past few months?"

"Second thing."

John nodded as he rubbed his hand down his face. "Dean, I'm sorry. I don't know what the hell came over me. I know I went way too damn far and said some things I shouldn't have."

Dean shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

"Sure, it does."

"Not really."

Dean grabbed the railing beside him and pulled his body to his feet and finished making his way inside the house.

"Sit down, boy." Bobby ordered, putting his hands on the back of Dean's shoulders and steering him toward the couch.

"I need a shower." Dean tried to protest.

"First, let me take a look at these damn cuts on you."

"I said I'm fine! I need a damn shower!"

"Okay, fine. Go, take a damn shower, do whatever the hell it is you want to do."

Bobby was beyond frustrated at this point. He wasn't really sure why, but he was.

Dean made his way into the bathroom and fell to his knees once he was under the prickly hot shower. His body couldn't handle much more. He knew it, but he also knew he needed to work on building his strength. It was morning. He should be out there working out, not in the damn shower, weak as hell! He was slacking on his own goals.

He figured maybe a quick shower and short nap in his bed would rest his body enough to go back out and work out again. He needed to push himself, every morning and every night. He was going to leave the middays for resting, but today, and only today, he had decided maybe he could rest this morning and work out this afternoon and again after supper.

Deciding it sounded like a good plan he made his way out of the shower, avoiding the mirror, he wrapped a towel around his waist and stumbled into his room, using the walls to guide his way.

He grabbed a clean pair of boxers and sweat pants, not even bothering with a shirt. He made his way under his covers and allowed his exhaustion to once again take over.

"Hey there, kiddo, how you feeling?" John's gentle voice and touch woke Dean from the darkness that had surrounded him.

There was something on his face, it was cold. He reached up and felt a half-melted ice pack that had been placed over his swollen eye and face. He didn't know when or how it had gotten there. But, he wasn't going to complain because it felt good. Dean moaned as he shifted his body.

He was feeling so confused, was his head seriously that messed up? He remembers the words his dad said to him, he remembered feeling like he was going to die by his dad's own hands. But, he was being so gentle now, he was caring and fatherly. So, maybe what he thinks he remembers isn't really what he remembers? Maybe his brain has it all wrong?

He squinted his eyes open, thankful that the swelling had gone down enough that he could at least open his eye a little bit.

"Here, take these." John was sitting on the edge of Dean's bed, glass of water in one hand, pills in the other.

Dean pushed his dad's hand away. "I'm good." He groaned as he pushed himself into a seated position. "I'm up." He groaned again as he swung his feet off the edge of the bed.

"Take it easy there."

John sounded concerned. It was genuine concern. Or was it? Damn, Dean didn't know what to think. He put his face in the palm of his hands, trying to get his brain to work properly.

"You okay there?"

Dean looked up at his dad with such innocent confusion. "I'm so confused." He admitted with a sigh.

John closed his eyes and swallowed hard. He couldn't do this. He knew he had messed up, but he wasn't sure if Dean knew he had.

Dean just shook his head, giving up on getting his dad to give him an answer. He swayed as he stood and grabbed a hold of the wall beside him.

"Easy." John reminded him.

"I got this." Dean sounded frustrated and aggravated.

He was. He was so tired of feeling like he was constantly losing his mind. He was tired of feeling pain and confusion. He was tired of fighting a battle when he wasn't even sure what the battle was. He used to wall to keep his balance as he made his way down the stairs and to the kitchen.

"What'cha doing?" Bobby questioned as Dean grabbed a bottle of water.

"Going out."

"Where?"

"Does it matter?"

"Lose that disrespect, boy." John warned. He had followed his son downstairs to be sure he didn't fall down the steps.

"Or wha…"

Dean paused. He closed his mouth and stared at his dad. He knew what was in his head was real. He knew He wasn't losing his mind. He remembers this almost exact conversation. He froze, fear and panic boiled in him as he pushed his way past his dad and out the front door. He made his way toward the back of the yard, back to his own private area. The sun was still shining but he could tell it would be going down soon. He had slept the day away without working on his strength.

He instantly started his tough workout when he reached his area. By the time he had finished his body trembled with exhaustion and pain. He made his way into the house by dinner time, sat and ate to make everyone else happy, then went back out to do his nightly routine.

Exhausted he made his way back inside, took a shower and laid down. He slept for a couple hours, waking after everyone else had gone to sleep. He made his way to Bobby's desk and continued his research he had started. When the sun started peeking through the sky, he quickly put everything back where it was and snuck back into bed. He slept for another hour or two before the house came alive again.

He ate breakfast, went outside to work out, came back in and showered and slept, then woke for supper and went back out for his nightly workout, showered and bed again. Once everyone was asleep he woke and continued his research, stopping only when the sun threatened to shine. And made his way back to his bed without being noticed.

This same routine continued for a week and a half. He could feel his body becoming exhausted, but it was also getting stronger. His injuries from his dad has healed. He didn't talk much to anyone, especially his dad. He just concentrated on his mission and slept when he wasn't working out or researching.

He had decided the time had come. He was going to face his dad again. He needed to know how well he could fight, but honestly, he was a little scared. He wasn't afraid of being hurt, that he could handle, he was afraid he would be injured and unable to work the job he had planned.

He decided it was best to leave things be. He didn't want to hurt his dad anymore than he wanted his dad to hurt him. But, he wasn't going to take any more crap from anyone. He had plans on leaving. Plans on hunting things and saving people.

It was time. The night had finally come. The house was asleep and the darkness had flooded out the light. He quietly packed his bag and headed downstairs. He sat, one last time, at Bobby's desk. Pen and paper in hand, prepared to say his final goodbyes.


	63. Chapter 63

**CHAPTER 63**

 _Bobby,_

 _First off, I want to thank you for always being like a dad to me when my dad wasn't around. You've always had my back no matter how screwed up I got. I'll never forget that. You've understood me more than anyone else ever has, that's why I'm writing this to you. I know you'll understand. The others may not, but you will._

 _Second, I want to say I'm sorry. I know I should have come to you about this, instead of dropping it on you all at once. But, I also know if I did that, you'd try to stop me. The thing is, I don't want to be stopped. I need to do this. I need to either prove to myself I can be strong again, or I need to be allowed to fail trying. I know you would understand if I talked to you about it, but I honestly couldn't take that chance, and the way everyone has been these past few months, I honestly can't say that I trust anyone anymore. I can't depend on anyone, sometimes I can't even depend on myself._

 _I can't stay here. I can't continue to look so weak in everyone's eyes. If I can't do the one thing, the most important thing, then what use am I? I can't protect Sammy, that's my job, my most important job and I can't even do that right now. Dad, he thinks I'm too weak to be able to do anything anymore. And, I can't handle the way they feel sorry for me._

 _I've been working out, in the back of the junkyard. I've been building my strength. That fight with Dad, I started that. I know I did. I meant to. So, don't be too mad at him for it. I didn't expect things to end the way they did. I didn't expect him to go as far as he did with it, but still, it was my fault it happened in the first place. I need you to understand that I had to test my strength, see where I stood with my fighting skills._

 _The thing he said to me, at the end, when he whispered in my ear, he asked if that's what I wanted, if I wanted someone to be rough with me like that. He wanted to know if I liked it and if I wanted to be raped again or if I was going to be a willing participant now. I'm not sure what he meant by that, but I can't keep doing this. I can't live with that fear and panic, not knowing what's waiting around every corner._

 _He's already taken it that far once, I'm not sure if it was because of the creature or not, but at that moment, I was certain he wouldn't have hesitated to go that far again if no one else would have been around. I don't know if you know what if feels like to live with that type of fear in the back of your head, but I can't live with it anymore._

 _I know you say you can understand me so well because I remind you of yourself, because we've both had to fight battles to protect the ones we loved. But, I don't think you've ever gotten as weak as I have. I don't think, I hope not anyhow, that you know what this feels like for me._

 _Anyhow, I've been doing some research, while everyone slept. I have a job I'm going to do. If I can't keep Sam safe, maybe I can at least save these kids. If not, I'm fully prepared to die trying. If that's the way things end, then at least I went down swinging. I didn't just lay down and give up, know that if I don't make it back, I went out fighting like a true hunter. If I can just save one kid, if I can stop the creature I'm hunting, then maybe my life will mean something? Maybe my death would be for a purpose instead of by the hands of some pervert, or even my own dad's hands._

 _I've fought and fought for this family. I've given up so much to see us succeed. And, when I got weak, when I was no longer able to give, instead I needed them to give for me, I was left to figure it out on my own. I know, I shouldn't expect anything out of anyone else, but the child in me just wanted, for once, to have my dad, and I couldn't even seem to keep that. Not that it really matters anymore, I know I'll never have him, and I'll never have Sam, not like I did before._

 _I had it, when I was in the hospital, but then I wasn't able to meet his expectations and I lost him again. This time, I've lost Sam too. I feel so confused. I can't seem to put myself back together, not with all the cracks and breaks that are shattered. All I want is for things to go back to normal, but I know now, that will never happen._

 _Tell Sam I'm sorry, I shouldn't have ever showed up at his apartment. I should have left him alone. No matter how much I needed him, I should have let him be. Tell him to go back to school, to forget about this life. To forget about me, I'm not worth it anymore._

 _Tell Dad I'm sorry I couldn't be the son he wanted me to be. That I'm sorry I couldn't be strong enough for him. I couldn't measure up to his expectations. I've tried, but I've failed. I'm sorry I've hurt him with the decisions I've made in life. But, he has a son he can be proud of. He may not be a hunter, but he's smart as hell and will make one hell of a lawyer!_

 _I need you to be proud of him too, for me. Please, make sure he's taken care of. Make sure he's safe. Don't let Dad lash out at him. Me leaving might make him upset. If it does, he's going to take his anger out on the closest person around. Please don't let it be Sammy. I've tried so hard to protect him from Dad's anger._

 _I've taken his beatings and punishment. I've endured his angry words and hatefulness. So, Sam wouldn't have to. Please, Bobby, if you do anything for me, make sure Dad doesn't take his frustration out on Sam. Don't let him hurt him the way he has me._

 _Anyhow, once things settle, everything should go back to normal for everyone. That's the way it needs to be. Don't worry about me, I'll be okay. I'll end up where ever I end up at. Probably hell, for all the things I've done in my life. But, I'm fully prepared to face that if that's the way things end. I'm willing to take my ultimate punishment for being such a screw up in this life._

 _I hope you understand, the choices I made in life, the way I sold myself when I was younger, even the way I hustled in the bars while playing pool, it was all for Sammy. I had to take care of him. It wasn't easy. He wasn't easy. But, he turned out good! I just hope he stays that way. I hope all of this hasn't ruined him. I want, more than anything, for him to be able to forget all of this. To be able to forget the past few months. I want him to be okay._

 _I know it's been hard on him. I know he's suffered because of me, and I would change it all if I could. I would protect him from it all if only I had another chance. But, make sure he knows, no matter what happens in life, it's going to be okay. It will all be okay, no matter what. He needs to know he still has you. He probably won't have Dad anymore. I'm sure he'll go back to hunting and disappear again._

 _I hope all of this hasn't ruined him either. He has seemed so much more aggressive lately. I know it's because he's so disappointed in me. I try. I promise I do. But, it's just some of the things he says and does, it makes my brain get confused and think about the stuff I try to keep out. It tries to bring back up all the hurt and fear._

 _I don't really understand all of it. It's not exactly like Dad ever taught either of us about all the emotional stuff. And the things I've been feeling, it's all new to me. I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know how I'm supposed to act. Dad thinks I should act like the same person I once was._

 _I wish I could. I've tried, but, inside, I don't feel like that person anymore. Inside, I don't feel like anyone. I feel so numb, so broken. I know I'm nothing but a disappointment to everyone. Hell, I'm even disappointed in myself. I hate myself._

 _I know I should be stronger. I know I should be past all of this crap. I know it shouldn't still hurt or scare me. But, I don't know how to make it stop. And, the thing is, I can't keep living with it either. I can't keep living the way I am. I have to do something. Even if it means I'll probably not walk away alive, I still need to do something to stop the way I feel, inside._

 _I'm living a pathetic waisted life. I know I am. I have for many years. I feel it all the time. I see it, in Dad's, and Sam's eyes. I see how pathetic I am. In fact, you're the only one who has made me feel halfway normal through this. So, thank you. Thank you for not looking at me like I'm some wandering lost soul, like I'm some kind of freak._

 _I had hope. Once. I had hope. When Sam started researching the way people handled different things in their lives, I hoped that Dad would understand. And, I actually felt normal. I felt like maybe I wasn't as big of a freak as I thought I was, but then, Dad reminded me I was, and I'm not like all the people in the research. I live a different life. I live in a different world than they do. What's normal for them, isn't normal for me._

 _Anyhow, tell Sam, if I don't make it through this fight, and he finds my car, he had better take care of her! If he doesn't, I'll come back and haunt his ass! I'm serious, he had better take care of her!_

 _Don't come looking for me, you may not like what you find. I don't know what I'm up against. No matter how much research I've done, I can't figure it out, but I have a couple weeks to figure it out. That's why I'm not sure how this will end._

 _Take care of yourself. Tell Dad and Sam to do the same. Tell them I'm sorry, I just can't keep living the way things are right now, I need to feel something inside, something besides brokenness and pity. I need people to see me for me, not for what has happened to me. When I look in the mirror, that's all I see. I see faces of other men. I see expressions I'll never forget, eyes that still haunt my dreams. I see the brokenness in myself. I remember everything that's been done to my body._

 _I can't keep doing that. I need it to stop. If I ever look in the mirror again I need to be able to see me again, not the pile of crap I've become lately, not some other person's face, I need to be able to see me._

 _I'm leaving my phone on your desk, so no one can track me. I'll pick up another one if I need it. Please, just let me go, let things be. Don't try to find me, don't try to follow me. I need to do this on my own. If I make it through this hunt then I'll call you, let you know I'm okay. But, there's no way I can come back. I need to allow Dad and Sam to go back to the people they were meant to be. I need to allow them a life without my screw ups and weakness._

 _Bobby, I've always loved you like a dad. Maybe one day I'll see you again. But, for now, I have to say good bye. Take care of yourself. Make sure Sam takes his own life back. Thank you for everything you've ever done for me._

 _Dean Winchester_

Dean folded the letter and quietly made his way back upstairs. He slid the note under Bobby's door and quickly made his way back downstairs.

He grabbed his bag and took one last look around the only place that has ever felt like home. With a deep breath he walked out the door and closed it tight behind him. He threw his bag in the back seat and put his baby into neutral. He pushed her to the end of the driveway, as far away from the house as he could get it.

The last thing he needed right now was to wake everyone up by starting his car. At least, he would have an all night head start before anyone even knew he was gone. If they were going to try to find him, he needed to be as far away as could get before they woke.

He started the engine and drove out of sight from his family. He didn't look back. He didn't even glance in the mirror. He wiped a stray tear from the side of his cheek and toughened up his body, tightening the grip on the steering wheel.

He couldn't think about what he was doing. He couldn't think about what he had just done. He couldn't think about the pain he just caused those he loved and cared about. He just drove, mindlessly, through the night, his headlights lighting up the road in front of him as he drove with his music blaring.


	64. Chapter 64

**CHAPTER 64**

"BALLS!"

Bobby had rolled himself out of bed and started heading out the door. With his hand on his doorknob he paused, confused. He looked down at the floor, under the weight of his foot he felt the crinkle of paper. Bending over to pick it up, he could clearly see his name written in bold letters on the outside of a folded letter.

As he unfolded the pages and started reading the words written, his body slowly stepped backwards until his legs hit the bed. He allowed his body to fall, seated on the edge of the bed he finished reading what had been wrote.

His heart sank with each word. The pain, the sorrow, the emotions that were running through the words were enough to tear Bobby's world apart.

"BALLS!" He exclaimed as he jumped from his bed, flung his door open, and quickly made his way to his desk.

There sat Dean's phone, just as he had said. He looked out the window and the impala was no where to be seen. "Damn, idjit." Bobby mumbled under his breath.

"What the hell is your problem?" John entered into the area where Bobby was grumbling and trying to type on his computer.

"Your damn idjit son, that's what the hell is my problem!"

"Which one?"

Bobby looked up at his old friend. "Really? You gotta ask?"

"What the hell did that boy do this time?"

"Who?" Sam questioned as he walked into the room.

"Your brother." John answered.

"Sam, you know how to pull up erased history on these things?" Bobby interrupted.

"On a computer? I mean, yeah."

"Get your ass over here and do it then."

"What's eating at you, Bobby?"

Bobby sat in his chair, prepared to stand and give Sam access to his computer. His heart was heavy, he held back the tears that threatened to push their way through his tough walls. He flattened his palm on the folded letter that sat on the desk in front of him. Hesitantly, knowing what words the letter held, he pushed the letter to the edge of the desk, toward John and Sam. He hesitated for another moment before removing his hand.

John reached down and picked up the paper he had pushed his way. Recognizing his son's handwriting, he unfolded the paper and started reading. Sam stood behind his dad, reading over his shoulder.

John sunk down into the nearby chair. "What the hell is that boy thinking? He knows he's not strong enough to hunt yet, especially on his own."

"Seriously? Dad!" Sam replied angrily. "That's what you have to say about what you just read? Ever think maybe, that exact comment, is why the hell he said what he did?"

"Boy, don't you blame your idiot brother's Brainiac idea on me!"

"I never said I was blaming anything on anyone! All I'm saying is he said he's tired of disappointing YOU and he's tired of feeling weak and YOU thinking he can't do anything."

John jumped from his chair and stood in front of his son.

"What? You gonna beat me down now? Because you can't handle the truth? I'd suggest you back off because I'm not Dean! I won't put up with your shit!"

"Can you two idjits dig your heads out of your assess long enough to give a shit?" Bobby interrupted, frustrated, worried. "Sam, get your no good ass over here and find out what the hell your brother's been researching! John, I'd suggest you get busy looking through the books and shelves and see if you can find any clue to what books he's been reading."

"Dean doesn't read books." John interrupted.

"Like hell he don't! Who do you think taught Sammy how to read?"

"School."

"No, you damn idjit. Sam was reading before he ever started school, if you paid attention while you were around those boys you would have known that!"

"Well, that doesn't surprise me any, have you noticed how smart he is?" John questioned, pointing in Sam's direction.

"You think he got that smart on his own? You think he just magically knew everything? NO! Dean made sure Sam was educated. He sacrificed himself for that too. He spent hours with that kid teaching him what he needed to know. Do you know why Dean done so poorly at school?"

"I figured because he slacked off too damn much and didn't give a shit about learning."

Bobby drew in a deep, irritated breath. He had gotten Sam's attention by now too. "No, because he would spend so much time helping Sam with his homework and making sure he understood it all that he didn't have time to do his own most of the time."

"Bullshit! He had plenty of time to do both! Damn, school got out between three and four, depending on where we lived. He had all evening to do both."

"Really, John? Really? Then when the hell would he find the time to run his miles and do the training you had him do? When the hell would he have the time to make sure his little brother got a bath and had supper and clean clothes for school?"

"Well, if he wasn't out selling himself all night…"

"DAD!" Sam shouted. He had heard enough. He didn't even want his dad to go there. "Bobby's right, okay. Just face the damn facts. And if you would have been half the dad you should have been then maybe Dean wouldn't have had to spend all night out, on top of everything else that was put on his shoulders."

"So, your brother runs off, again, and it all becomes my fault?"

"No one ever said it was anyone's fault." Sam said exhausted from his dad's behavior and attitude.

"Well, your brother sure as hell didn't see it that way, did he?"

"He said he needed to prove it to himself. He said he needed to either get past things and fight, or he needed to die trying. He said he didn't want to die by just laying down and giving up, which is exactly the path he was taking. He never said any of it was your fault." Sam sighed.

"Not what I read."

"Okay! That's enough!" Bobby interrupted. "Both of you, do as you were told, if you don't give a damn about Dean then at least do it for me. Please!"

"And what are you going to do?" John asked.

"Make some phone calls, see if I can find anything out about a job involving kids." Bobby replied as he walked away to make his calls in peace and quiet.

John and Sam both quietly started obeying Bobby. Neither of them happy about the new situation that, once again, Dean had created for them. But, they did need to find out what he was up against.

Bobby made some calls that led nowhere. Everyone said they would let him know if they heard anything.

"Bobby." Sam spoke quietly and gentle. "Why don't you get you something to eat? It's almost noon and you haven't ate anything today."

Bobby had been pacing back and forth across the living room floor all day. "Not hungry."

"Well, if you don't stop that damn pacing you're gonna wear a whole through the floor." John intervened.

Bobby stopped and looked at his old friend. "Your son is out there, god knows where, and into god knows what, and I'm the only one concerned about him?"

"It's Dean. He'll be fine."

"How many times have you told yourself that? Huh? How many? Each time you've raised your hand to that boy? Every time you left him alone to take care of his little brother? Every hunt that you've put his life in danger? Huh, Winchester? Tell me."

"That's not fair!"

"Like hell it's not! I've heard you say that so many times. And yes, each time he seems to be hitting rock bottom he somehow pulls himself back up. But, damn it John! He's only human, he can only handle so much before he can't handle any more. So, tell me, how much more do you think he can handle? Because from the sound of it, I'd say he's about reached his limit."

"And, somehow it's all my fault?"

"Are you that damn insecure about yourself? You always gotta think everyone is blaming you for everything? No wonder Dean thinks everything is his fault, it comes natural."

"And, you think so high and mighty about yourself that you think everything you do or think or say is right?"

"Never said that."

"Well you sure as hell act like it."

"At least I ain't ever beat either one of your boys."

John rolled his eyes in frustration. "Gonna bring that up again, huh? Okay, fine. Yeah, I've raised my hand a time or two to him. I've admitted it, that's no secret."

"A time or two? You damn near killed him a couple weeks ago."

"That was his damn fault, even he admitted that."

"Here we go with the blame game again." Bobby sighed. "He may have started it, but you took it way too damn far. And now that he's told me what the hell you said, and the way it made him feel, I wish to god I would have made you leave this house that night."

"Well, it's not like you didn't try."

"You're right. I did, but I thought it was best for Dean if you stayed, as long as you didn't raise your hand to him like that again."

"And I haven't."

"Didn't say you did." Bobby flopped down on the couch, resting his face in the palms of his hands.

John followed Bobby's actions and fell into the chair beside him.

"I just wanna find your boy." Bobby muffled from his palms.

Sam sat in the chair across from his dad. "Dad?"

"Yeah, son?"

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure, what is it?"

"Would you have… uh… did you mean what you said to Dean? Would you have… you know… do you want him like that?"

"What!" John snapped his head up to give Sam his full attention. "Hell no! What in the hell would make you think that?"

"Well, you're the one who said it."

"I was just trying to get in his damn head. I wouldn't touch him that way."

"But, you have."

"You aren't exactly innocent either."

"I know. But, it's not like I was exactly myself at the moment and I've never taken it all the way."

"I wasn't exactly myself at the time either."

"I know." Sam sighed, not wanting this to turn into an argument. "Would you let someone else?"

"What? Touch him that way? Fuck him? Rape him?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I sure as hell wouldn't stop it. Your brother's a grown ass man. I'm so tired of chasing the same damn demons with that boy. If he wants to go out there and get himself into another damn situation, knowing what the hell he's getting himself into, then that's his decision."

"You wouldn't stop it?" Sam sounded both shocked and heartbroken.

"That damn boy has gotten himself into the same damn situation enough times he knows what the hell he's doing. So, if that's what he decides he wants then so be it."

"Because you're tired of chasing the same demons with him?"

"Yeah."

"And how do you think Dean feels?"

"What?" John again looked up at Sam, giving him his full attention.

"How do you think Dean feels? If you're tired of it all, don't you think he's right down exhausted? Ready to either face it all head on or just get it over with?"

"Well, apparently that's what the hell he's doing right now."

"Because he feels like he's fighting this alone."

"He knows better."

"That's not what he told Bobby."

"Son, he's the one who made the decision to go off on his own, again."

"Yeah, okay, but once again, he's not exactly thinking with a 100% clear head. He's got some thoughts that aren't quite right yet. He's got an opinion of himself that isn't true."

"Sounds like to me he's pretty damn near the person he's always been."

"I just don't get you sometimes!"

Sam stood with force and frustration. He couldn't get his dad to understand, no matter what he said, his dad was hard headed, another thing Dean got naturally. Sam made his way to Bobby's desk, before he blew up at his dad, and started working on the computer again.

"Damn, Winchester, have you ever given a damn about that kid?" Bobby questioned his friend once Sam had left the room.

"Which kid?"

"Dean."

"Of course, I have!"

"Yeah? When?"

"I've always cared about him."

"Cared about him because he took care of your responsibilities and was so damn obedient? Or cared about him because he was your son?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"An honest one."

"Whatever, Singer, you have no idea what it was like raising those boys."

"Neither do you."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not like you did any raising with them. Dean's the only one I seen raise Sammy, the problem is, Dean didn't have anyone raising him."

"Dean grew up just fine."

"Yeah, as your soldier."

"He's a hunter! He needed training."

"You did a hell of a lot more to him than just training. The way he fought you the other night, even when you damn near killed him. He wasn't shocked, he wasn't afraid, not of you. He may have been afraid of some memory, but he was too damn used to you beating on him for it to even affect him."

"Training. Singer, training."

"Yeah, you call it what you want, I'll call it the way I see it."

"Yeah? And how's that?"

"You damn near abuse that kid. You always have, still do the way I see it. He's so damn used to it he doesn't even question your orders. He doesn't think twice about your actions. And, the worst thing is, he loves you. He loves you unconditionally. And, you don't deserve it! You don't deserve a kid as good as Dean. But, somehow you got lucky and got him, and all you do is take it for granted and push him farther than anyone should ever be pushed."

"He's never complained before. I don't know why the hell the past is such a big deal now. He's just upset over the shit that's happened recently. You two just wanna keep throwing the past in my face. Dean's fine with it, you should be too."

"Have you asked him?"

"What?"

"Have you asked him if he's okay with it?"

"Don't gotta. Like I said, he's never complained about a damn thing, not until you and Sam started putting shit in his head."

"Just trying to help him realize what he needs to heal from."

"And what's that? Huh? My abuse? That is what you're calling it, right?"

"Like I said, I call it like I see it."

"Yeah, well, did Dean tell you that? Did he go crying to you about how abusive I was? Is that it? Well, he's not exactly working with a full deck right now, remember?"

"Dean hasn't needed to say a damn thing. I've always known how the hell you've treated that boy. If you weren't hurting him with your fists then your words were doing the punching for you. You've beat that boy down in so many ways. Ways you don't even realize."

"Just shut up!"

"What's the matter? Can't handle the truth?"

"He's right."

Sam couldn't help but get into the middle of this conversation. He needed to have his brother's back. He needed to try to get their dad to understand what he had done to Dean, the reason he is the way he is, the reason he thinks and acts the way he does.

"You saying I'm abusive too?"

"No. I'm saying that Bobby's right. About your words. About beating him down in ways you don't even know."

"Sit down. Entertain me. Tell me, how so?"

Sam sat even though his dad was being sarcastic. "I remember when I was young, Dean was helping me with some homework and there was a lot of reading. He helped me with it all and helped me understand it. I asked him why you would say he was dumb and couldn't read, when I thought he was the smartest person in the world at that time. He told me it was because you wanted him to work harder at it."

Sam sighed. "I asked him why he didn't say those things to me, since I needed to work harder too, and he said it was because he didn't want his words to hurt me. I asked him if your words hurt him and he said yeah, sometimes. But he wasn't worried about it, you didn't really mean the ones that hurt him."

John sighed.

"Dad, you always told him how much of a screw up he was. You always pointed out everything bad about him. Once, when I got a little older, I asked him why he didn't say the same things to me, how he could raise me so different from the way you treated him. He told me it was because you taught him what not to do. If he didn't like it there was no way he was going to say, or do, or make me do the things he hated."

John sighed again, wiping his hand down his face.

"He didn't know what he was doing, hell he was just a kid raising another kid, but he did at least learn what not to do. I'm not saying everything you've done has been bad. And, Bobby's right. Dean loves you. I don't understand it, never will. But, he does, and he has always thought you hung the moon. He's always looked at you like a hero."

"The damn kid's an idiot."

"No, Dad, he's not! Just because he's able to love someone like you doesn't make him an idiot."

"Someone like me? Boy you best be watching your mouth! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I think you just proved my point and answered your own question. You get so damn defensive over anything that might be threatening to you, and you've never hesitated to act on it either."

"I control myself a hell of a lot more than you may realize."

"Damn, Dad. I'm not saying you don't but seriously? You can not sit there and say you don't act out when you shouldn't. Hell, I remember one time I spilled a cup of milk and you got pissed bigger than hell. Yelled some crap about not being able to afford to waste like that. And, Dean stepped between us, said it was his fault. I remember seeing your fist knocking him to the ground as I ran and hid, just like Dean taught me to do."

"That's why you're such a damn wimp, cause Dean taught you to hide instead of fight."

"No. He taught me to keep myself safe, to not watch our dad take his anger out on my big brother. He taught me how not to carry around images that could never be erased. Images that he, not only carries with him, but had to live through."

John just shook his head in disbelief. He wasn't prepared to listen to this. He wasn't prepared to face the truth.

"John, are you even listening to your son?" Bobby questioned.

"Yeah, yeah. I hear him."

"We know you hear him but are you listening?"

"When the hell did this become about me? Aren't we supposed to be trying to find Dean?"

"Yeah. Run away from the truth. Live in your own world, that's what you're good at anyhow." Sam sighed as he stood and walked back into the office.

"You damn idjit!" Bobby spit out.

"What the hell?"

"Your boy, he's hurting. Both your boys are. But, the one who is here with you, now. He's hurting and reaching out for even the slightest hint of a father who gives a crap, and you've given him nothing! All you gotta do is shut your piehole and open your damn ears."

Frustrated, Bobby stood and followed Sam's actions, walking into the office area to look for clues to Dean's whereabouts.


	65. Chapter 65

**CHAPTER 65**

He knew he had to be creative. The place would already be swarming with feds. He stayed the night in a nearby town. He found the most off road motel he could find. He wasn't ready to be known yet. He wasn't ready for anyone to know he was there.

He settled into the room. It was an old run down motel. Only half the lights on the vacancy sign worked. He had to struggle with the key to even get the door to open. He was given a room with two beds, even though he only asked for one. The man at the counter informed him only one of them would be worth sleeping in anyhow.

He was right. One bed was broken down in the middle and lumpy. He was sure more than just the mattress was worn out. He was sure the bed frame was broken in half. He shuttered thinking of the things that must have happened on that bed to make it break.

The other bed was bearable. It wasn't the most comfortable, but it would do. He pulled the cover off the broken bed and fixed it over the window. He wanted to both, block out the light and hide himself away. He had parked his baby in the back of the motel, it was a deserted area that was hidden from the road.

He sighed as he dropped his bag onto the dusty dresser that sat across the bed. There was a large mirror that hung over the dresser. Dean took the top sheet off the bed the cover was on and hung it over the mirror. He didn't want to see his own reflection. Not yet. He wasn't ready for that. He wasn't ready to see the broken man he had become.

He dropped himself onto the bed, falling onto his back. He didn't care about moving, not at this point. His head was wheeling with thoughts. He had been doubting himself since the moment he drove out of Bobby's.

"You got this, Winchester." He told himself as he laid on the bed and stared at the ceiling.

He laid there, concentrating on breathing. In. Out. Keep it even. In. Out. He groaned as he pushed himself into a seated position. He picked up the newspapers he had grabbed when he got into town and read through the local news.

He had asked the man at the front counter about a computer. He said there was an old one he could use in the office. After reading the papers he made his way back to the front office and logged into the computer he was told to use.

Once his eyes seemed to drift closed more than they would stay open, and he figured he had gathered all the information he could get, he logged out, erasing the history first, and headed to his room.

He made sure the room was pitch black. Everything was covered. He collapsed on the bed. He laid there, allowing his mind to be set free. The thoughts and images that ran across the backs of his eyelids sent his body into a shudder. He curled himself under the covers and allowed the darkness to consume him.

He needed this. He deserved this. He deserved the pain he felt while his mind ran free. He deserved the blanket of empty darkness that seemed to cover him. He needed this. He needed to be reminded of the pain, the heartache he carried around. He didn't know why he needed it, he just did.

Morning came after a restless night. He showered, the water never turning warm, but Dean didn't mind, he was sure he needed the bitter coldness too. And, he made his way to his destination.

He was right, the place had swarmed with feds, but, by this point they were mostly gone. Giving up on trying to convince the town folks that aliens weren't real. From the information he gathered, most of them thought the people who were trying to help were the same people who were hiding the truth.

Dean posed as an alien investigator. He worked his magic, making the locals think he believed them, that the feds were hiding the truth, that they were only there to keep their secrets hidden. By doing this, he was able to gain access to the kids who were previously abducted. He gathered the stories from each child, they seemed to match, what they could remember anyhow.

Dean found a vacancy in another run down motel. Another computer he could use in the office. Another dark room, the window covered by the spare blanket, the mirrors covered by the sheets. One bed left naked and alone, the other served as Dean's self destructive haven.

He took a moment to sit and write down everything he had figured out so far. Then, he collapsed on the bed, exhausted, allowing his body to feel, both, the physical and emotion pain he held. Once he had allowed himself to absorb the hurt he felt he needed and deserved, he made his way to the office, once again logging into the computer.

"Closing time, man." The voice came with a tap to the shoulder.

Dean startled, unaware of the time that had passed. He looked at the man puzzled. "You close? Aren't you supposed to stay open for customers or something like that?"

"Come on, man. It's time to hit the local bar, see who'll come home with me tonight. Don't no one come to this place, especially this late."

Dean looked out the window and saw the night was closing in. "Yeah, sorry man, thanks for letting me use this thing."

"Whatever. You going to the bar?"

"Nah, man, I'm good."

"It's the only place to eat around here, unless you wanna drive all the way into the next town."

"Said I'm good." Dean snapped back.

"Look man, just asking." The man stood with his arms raised in front of him and his palms out, showing he didn't want to fight.

"Sorry." Dean sighed as he rubbed his hand down his face. "Been a long day."

"Yeah? Nothing a little drink can't fix."

"You know what? You're right!" Dean said as he pushed himself away from the table in front of him and placed his arm around the stranger's shoulders. "Let's go find some girls to bring back with us."

"Now you're talking." The man said with a smile.

Dean didn't realize his hands were trembling until after he had stepped into the bar. It was full of all the locals. Décor on the walls included pictures of aliens and UFOs. Dean couldn't help but smirk at the ignorance of the human race. He settled himself onto a stool at a back corner table. The entire room in clear view from where he sat. The only reason he had decided to come was because, according to the man at the motel, all the locals would be here, and Dean needed to assess them in a different way than earlier.

"What'll it be sweet cheeks?"

Dean looked up, standing in front of him was a woman who must have been in her mid 30s. She was thin with extra large breasts. She was wearing a white button down the front shirt, with the top three unbuttoned, showing just enough to make Dean curious about what was under the rest of her shirt.

She had on a short black skirt that hugged the curves on her body like she was made of silk. She had bright blue eyes and long blonde hair. Her smile made her eyes sparkle as she pushed her hair behind her ear with the hand that held a pen. Her other hand held the round tray she carried drinks on. It was empty except a pad of paper to take orders on.

"Not from around here. What do you recommend?" Dean asked with the sexiest voice he could come up with.

"Well, what I'd recommend isn't on the menu." She said with a sinister tone as she teased her bottom lip with her teeth.

"Really? And what would that be?" Dean flirted back.

"I take break in 30 minutes, I can show you then."

Dean grinned, the smile that he knew dropped every woman to their knees. "Sounds as perfect as you are." He replied, checking her body out one more time, undressing her with his eyes.

She giggled and shifted her legs with anticipation. "Can I get you anything till then?"

"I'll have a beer, I'll be ordering something to eat in 30 minutes." Dean replied as the waitress again had to shift her legs to keep from spreading them for him right there.

"Be right back." She grinned as she turned to get his beer.

Dean watched her tight ass walk away. He buried his face in his palms, letting out a quick sigh. He wasn't sure if he was ready for this. Since when has Dean Winchester never been ready for a waitress on break? 'you got this.' He told himself as she returned with his beer. His grin and thank you almost had her dropping to her knees.

He watched her as she took care of other customers. 'Damn, she's so hot, you gotta do her!' he said to himself. 'Can't just go around allowing men to fuck the hell out of you. It's time you take some incentive. It's time you took charge, it's time you have what you like, it's time you have a woman.' He battled with himself until she returned to his table, giving him another beer and flirtatious smile that he returned, followed by a slight brush of the tip of his tongue across his upper lip.

He smiled as he saw her squeeze her legs together as she walked away. 'you already got her wanting you. You got this, just relax. Breathe. Enjoy yourself. You know she'll be enjoying you.'

She returned to his table, this time without a tray in her hand. He grinned, allowing his eyes to focus on her body.

"Is it time for me to order my dinner now?" He questioned as he ran his tongue across the edge of his upper teeth.

"Hell yeah!" she exclaimed as she took his hand and practically pulled him off the stool.

They entered a back room and she locked the door behind her. The sound, knowing he was locked into a small room, was enough to fill him with fear that he pushed down. Instead, he filled his head with the task at hand.

It only took a minute for Dean to have the unnamed waitress laid on the edge of the table, legs over his shoulders, and his head buried deep in her raised skirt, his hands grasping at her breasts.

 _This is the only thing you're good for._

 _The best fuck I've ever had._

 _Get on your knees boy._

 _You're going to enjoy this._

 _Is that the way you like it?_

The thoughts ran through his head, memories of the things he longed to forget. He pushed them away with the concentration of what he was doing. He focused on the woman in front of him. He wasn't gay. He wasn't a whore. He was worth more than that. It wasn't his only purpose in life, well, not with other men that is.

Her unstoppable moaning and arch of her body had told him he accomplished his first goal and now onto the next. He had her body pressed against the wall, himself inside of her, finishing himself off while pinning her to the wall. His name still echoed through the room, the ruminates of her enjoyment.

This. This he enjoyed. This he loved. A woman's body. He knew he was being too aggressive, too rough, but she didn't complain and he needed this. Her back was against the wall, her legs wrapped tightly around him. His hands held her at his waist as his fingers explored the ass he was holding. His dick was hard, throbbing hard as he finished his task at hand, both of them ending in an erupt explosion. He was satisfied that he managed to please her twice in the short time they had together.

"Um…" She stuttered as she tried to straighten her clothes and hair. "I think my break's over."

Dean just smiled at her. "Thanks for the advice on dinner tonight." He replied as he watched her walk away from him and head back to work.

He headed back out to the crowd of people, regaining his seat at the back table. He ordered something harder than a beer this time, as he sat and watched the actions of everyone around him.

'you did good.' He told himself. 'You still got what it takes. You're still a lady's man.' He grinned at the waitress as she flirted when she brought him his drink.

After a few heavier drinks he was feeling more relaxed, more like his old self. He scanned the bar, eying the men at the pool table. He knew he had probably drank too much already to be any good at hustling, besides, he was here to do a job.

He continued to scan the room, his eyes falling on two younger women, they looked to be barely old enough to be in the bar legally. He caught their eyes too. After a few glances and giggles they made their way to his table. A short conversation and several drinks later he was prying his eyes open. It was obvious there was a gap in his memory. Time he had forgotten, somewhere. Events that he didn't remember.

He wasn't sure where he was at, or what the hell had just happened. He laid on his stomach, feeling like he just went 10 rounds with a semitruck. The ground was cold and hard. Concrete, it was concrete. He pulled his face from the ground that the dried blood had stuck him to.

"What the hell?" He mumbled as he rolled himself onto his back.

When he rolled over, he was staring at a group of bodies that surrounded him. There was a bright light shining down on them, making it impossible for him to see the faces that belonged to the bodies.

"What are you doing here?" A gruff, stern voice spoke.

"I was trying to have a good time but it looks like that's over." Dean replied, receiving a kick to his side.

"You know what I mean."

"Look man, honestly, I don't have a clue what the hell you mean, or even who the hell you are. I'm just passing through, thought I'd have a little fun for the night."

Dean groaned as he pushed himself to a seated position, only to be shoved back to the ground. He raised his hands, palms out, giving up trying to sit up. "Okay, okay, I get it. You want me to lay down, rest, sleep off the good buzz I had going on."

"You think you're smart, don't you Winchester?"

"Who the hell are you?" Dean suddenly got serious, no one should know his real name. This was no longer fun and games.

"You think you're gonna figure this out? You think you're gonna just walk up in here and destroy what we've worked so hard at creating? Well, guess what? You're not! I'd suggest you pack your bags and head out of town."

"What you've worked so hard at creating? And, what exactly would that be?"

"We have a good thing going here." Another voice spoke. "We don't even kill the little humans, we let them go when we're finished with them."

"And, what is it that you do to them?"

"Make sure they stay healthy and safe, and live a long life." One of the more evil sounding voices spoke as he bent down, allowing Dean to see his face better, and his eyes glowed yellow.

"You!"

"You got it, Dean-o! Although, I gotta say, I'm a little disappointed Sammy boy isn't here with you. Is that because of the whole…" He twirled his finger around in the air, as if he was trying to come up with the right words to use. "Rape thing? You know, I gotta admit, if I knew you were going to be as good as they say I would have taken you out for a test drive a long time ago. Gave myself a little pleasure, if you know what I mean. Not that you'll ever know if I have or not."

"Go to hell!" Dean spit out.

"Where do you think I came from?"

He laughed as he lunged for Dean. His hand wrapped around his throat, pushing this head against the hard ground. His body pressed down on top of Dean's. "You know, I could have you if I wanted you, we all could."

He waved his free hand around the circle of bodies that surrounded him. "But, well, you're just not worth it to me. I mean. If I was going to pick someone, I sure wouldn't pick someone so… um… weak? Someone so broken. I mean, even your own daddy thinks that way, doesn't he?"

Dean snarled at the yellow eyed demon. He was barely able to breathe, his grip was tightened around Dean's throat but left just enough restraint that he could suck in short, shallow breaths.

"What's a matter Dean-o? You don't like those words? Or is it that you know it's true? You know Sammy would be so much better without you. And your daddy, well he's always better without you, why do you think he ran away? Why do you think he stayed gone for so long? Couldn't stand being around you. Once Sam left for college, there wasn't anything left for dear ole dad to give a shit about."

"That's not true!" Dean tried to yell out, but instead it came as a strained gasping sound.

"Isn't it?"

Dean couldn't reply. He didn't know how to reply. Yes, it was true, but he couldn't admit it. "You just gonna sit on me all day or you gonna actually do something?"

The demon laughed. "Go ahead, act all tough, act like you're not scared. Like I said, how do you know I haven't already done what I wanted?" He lowered himself so his lips were almost touching Dean's, they could taste each other's breath. "I know you are. You're terrified right now. And Daddy and Sammy, they're not here to save you."

He leaned back a couple inches so he could look Dean in the eyes. "Not that it matters, it's not like sweat Daddy wouldn't just stand back and watch it happen. He's said so himself. I heard him." The demon laughed.

"What is it you want from me?" Dean asked, keeping his voice calm.

"I want to tear you apart, to destroy you and your family. But, first, I want you to leave us alone, let us do what we're doing here and you go somewhere else."

"Not gonna happen!" Dean spat out with anger.

"Awwww, is that because Dean-o has already been torn apart? Literally? Tell me, how does that feel? To have your own body torn apart?"

"How about I show you!"

"Now, now, you gonna show that temper of yours? Just like your daddy aren't you?"

"Say what you want, I'm going to stop you. I'll make sure everyone of you goes back to hell where you belong."

"Well then, looks like we're gonna have to kill you, sorry Deany." The demon laughed.

"Think again!" Bobby's voice roared out of the darkness, shotgun in hand, banishing spell spilling from his lips.

The demons that surrounded Dean withered and screeched as they, one by one, exited the bodies they took over. Black smoke filling the air around them.

"Next time, Dean-o, you'll enjoy it, I promise. And, I'll make sure you remember it all, unlike this time." The yellow eyes glowed in the black smoke and Dean felt his weight lift from his body and the grip around his throat disappear.

"Bobby." Dean was barely able to get out a whisper before his eyes closed and his head fell to the side.

His breathing was ragged and hurt in his chest.

"Boy, what kind of mess did you get yourself into this time?" Bobby huffed as he made his way to the boy that was more like a son to him than to his own father.

"Dunno." Dean mumbled without opening his eyes.

"You got a place you're staying?"

"Yeah, some dump motel a short walk from… here?... where am I?"

"In some dump alley that I'm sure matches the dump motel you're staying in."

Dean tried to chuckle but the pain grew when he did. "I was at the bar."

"Still are, just behind it instead of inside. The waitress seemed to know exactly who we were talking about, and by that smile, I don't think she'll be forgetting you for a long time."

Dean grinned. "Yeah she was great." He reminisced. "Wait, we?"

"Yeah, you don't think I'd come without backup do ya?"

"Dean!" Sam's voice rushed toward him.

"Shhhh." Dean said, still not opening his eyes. "Head hurts."

He missed the glances Sam and Bobby shared between each other. Obviously, Dean had no idea what was going on right now.

"Yeah, I'd say so." Sam replied.

"Where's your dad?" Bobby questioned.

"He was right behind me." Sam replied and as he turned he saw John making his way around the corner.

Dean heard some mumbling, but still didn't open his eyes.

"Hey, Dean." Sam said gently as he settled beside his brother while the older men talked. "I need you to open your eyes for me. Okay?"

"Why? I don't wanna have to see yur ugly face." Dean's words slurred.

"Yeah, well, concussions are bitches, you know that, so I'm gonna need you to open your eyes and look at me."

"D'nt h've con… cu… cucussion." Dean struggled with the slurring words that exited his mouth.

"Come on man, don't argue, just open your damn eyes!" Sam was irritated and anxious for his brother to open his eyes again.

Dean struggled to flutter his eyes opened. It felt like they were sticking together and his sight was blurry. Maybe there wasn't a bright light after all? Maybe it was just his vision? Sam looked like he was sitting in a light too.

Dean tried to draw in the features of his brother's face but failed. He could only see the glow of his body, and even that was becoming foggy and blurred.

"Dean! Look at me!" Sam ordered.

Dean struggled to keep his eyes straight, they kept rolling in the back of his head, unable to be controlled by the one who owned them.

"Dean!" Sam yelled. "Look at me damn it! Look straight ahead. I'm right here!" Sam leaned over Dean so he was close to his face.

"Mmm trrr'nnn." Dean managed to get a small jumble of sounds to come out, sounds that sounded like the words he was wanting to say.

"I know you are, but I need you to stay focused, okay? Stay focused on me. The ambulance is on the way, it shouldn't be too much longer now."

"aaammmmblce?" Dean tried to talk but failed miserably. "NO! no h'sss… hsp…no."

"Dean, you don't have a choice." Bobby said as he knelt beside him.

"Bbb'bby" Dean's expression was begging him to help, but he didn't know what he needed help from.

"It's okay, boy. We're all here. It's going to be okay. I'll explain it all to you when you're able to concentrate. You did good. You hear me? You did good. You managed to get all those sons of bitches in one place and in perfect timing. They ain't gonna bother no kids no more. You did good."

Dean had closed his eyes again, his face turned toward Bobby. Emotionless. Unaware of what his body was experiencing. Unaware of anything at that moment.

"Dean?" Sam tried to get his attention. "Can you look at me again? Please?"

It almost sounded like Sam had tears in his voice. But, why? What would have him so upset? Dean fought to slip his eyes open, unable to open them fully. He looked at his brother. He may not have been able to see his features, but he knew who Sam was, no matter what, he would know.

"Dean, I'm sorry. You hear me? I'm sorry. For everything. I need you, okay? I need my big brother. I need my protector. I need you. Dean." Sam's words choked out with the tears that flooded his eyes.

They could hear the sirens in the background. They came closer and closer, louder and louder.

Dean kept his eyes partly open, looking at the form of his brother. He knew it was something Sam needed, and he would do anything for his brother.

Dean groaned. "Head… sound… h'rts." He mumbled.

"I know, Dean. I know." John said with a gentle touch to his shoulder. "Hang in there, Champ. You can't go anywhere, not yet."

Dean took one last deep breath before the world around him went black. And, at that moment, nothing was okay.


	66. Chapter 66

**CHAPTER 66**

"Finished up talking to the boy. He doesn't remember anything. Thank goodness. Said he woke up in a daze, there were tubes running through his arms, said it looked like something was running into him, like an IV in the hospital. He took them out and managed to get out of where he was and find his way home." John spoke quietly as he entered the room.

"Did he say where he was?" Bobby asked, equally as quiet.

"Nope. Said he was in a daze and couldn't remember exactly where he was. He wandered around, lost and confuse, for a while before he managed to stumble into town. He didn't come back like the other kids. It was like they were guided back home. This kid wasn't."

"He was abandoned?" Sam questioned.

"Looks like it. Probably because we got rid of those damn demons. They never returned and whatever they were giving that kid to keep him out of it wore off."

"Good, hopefully they won't be back." Bobby replied, turning his attention back to the man who laid in the bed beside him.

"Any change?" John asked as he directed his question toward the bed in front of him.

"Nope." Bobby sighed.

John dropped himself into the empty chair beside the other two men. He wiped his trembling hand down his tired face. He drew in a deep, weary breath.

"Wish I knew what to say right now." Bobby sighed.

"Nothing you can say." John replied as he leaned forward, resting his head on his hands, his elbows on his knees. "How the hell did life get so messed up?"

"It happens." Bobby replied, almost sounding like he was in a daze himself.

John shook his head. "Not like this. Not to us. Not to my boys." John's tone changed with the irritation that grew inside of him. "Damn it Bobby! I've tried to keep my boys safe. No matter what anyone thinks, I tried. Why the hell do you think I'd leave them alone so much? I did it to protect them from the world, from the hunter's life. I did it to keep them safe."

John sighed, burying his face in his palms. "I don't know how the hell I screwed up so badly. I don't know why the hell we keep ending up here."

"Dad." Sam spoke softly. "You didn't screw up as badly as you may think."

"Really, Sam? This, coming from you?"

"Look, I may not agree with everything you've done, but, well, you obviously did something right. I mean, I think we turned out okay, for the most part."

John drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes as he pressed his palms against his face, digging his fingertips into his forehead.

"Boy's got a point." Bobby replied. "You got you a couple of damn good boys here."

"Yeah. I know." John mumbled from his palms. "I know."

"Got it!" Sam exclaimed as he finally figured out what his brother had been researching.

Bobby jumped to his feet, nearly knocking Sam out of the way to see what he had found.

"Balls!" Bobby shouted. "Pack your damn bags we're going on a road trip."

"What the hell have you gone and gotten yourself into?" Bobby questioned under his breath, directed at the one person who was no longer there.

He gathered a few books he thought would help him figure out what they were against before heading out the door. John drove, a little too fast as Bobby kept pointing out while he explained to them what Dean had gone after and the reason why. He gave Sam a book to read through as well, figured it would keep his mind occupied and he could use the help trying to figure out what they were getting themselves into.

"Looks like demons." Sam explained as he read passages from the book he held in his hands.

"Was thinking the exact same thing. Just hope your brother was smart enough to figure it out before rushing into this half cocked."

They pulled into a small town late in the evening. The only thing that seemed to have life in the town was the bar. It was late enough they were all sure that everyone in the bar would be too drunk to remember if they had seen Dean or not. But, they figure it would still be worth a shot. Bobby entered the bar as Sam and John scoped out the area.

A cute waitress came up to him to offer her help. When he asked if she had seen him, and showed his picture, there was no mistaking she had already gotten to know him on a personal level. The smile that filled her face was all Bobby needed to know he was in the right place.

"Went out the back door with the guys he was playing pool with." She told Bobby. "Hey, if you see him, tell him to come back and see me anytime." She added.

"Will do. Thank you, ma'am." Bobby replied as he headed toward the back of the bar and out the door she said Dean was last seen walking through.

It only took him a moment to locate his target. The voices drew him right to them. Knowing he needed to wait to see what he was up against, he stayed hidden and listened.

He recognized Dean's voice, but something in his tone sounded wrong. He was hurt, that Bobby was certain of. The other voices were demons, there was no mistaking that. But the one who spoke the most, his voice sounded different. He was the leader. He was the one in charge of this whole operation.

He couldn't take any chances, he stepped out, making himself known, with guns blazing. The sight he saw took him by surprise. He was barely able to complete the banishing spell without emptying his stomach onto the ground. But, he knew he couldn't stop, he knew he couldn't give into what his eyes saw and his heart felt. He knew if he did then the demons would only run and they would lose their chance at stopping them.

The bodies the demons possessed ran in shock and fear. Each of them confused on what had just happened. Bobby didn't even try to stop them, he knew they were freed from what held their bodies captive. Instead of trying to help them understand, he rushed to sight they all ran from. His hands shook as he dropped to the ground at Dean's side. His head hurt. He said his head hurt. Bobby's heart sunk, he had no idea what shape he was in.

He could tell from Dean's reaction that he was equally as confused as the humans who ran. He didn't know what was going on. He didn't know why he hurt.

His head laid in a pool of blood, split open, his skull obviously split with the back of his head. Bobby was sure he could see part of Dean's brain touching the ground beneath him through the split in his head. Dean's color had drained. He was pale, paler than Bobby had ever seen anyone before, damn near as white as a ghost, if ghosts were white.

Dean's words slurred the longer he fought to stay awake. Sam was there, he was trying to keep Dean awake, trying to keep him alive. He was scared, that was clear to see, but he needed to be there, he needed to be there for Dean.

John emptied his stomach before he was able to approach the boys. Everything inside of him told him to run, that he wouldn't be able to handle what was in front of him. But, he stood his ground. He knew he couldn't leave. Not now, even if Dean took his last breath, he still needed to be there for Sam.

Bobby had called for an ambulance and assessed his injuries while they waited. His shirt and pants were removed, leaving only his boxers in place. His bare skin exposing his brutalized body.

His chest was a solid black color from the force of the demons. One deep bruise on top of another, looking like one solid, multi colored bruise. The blackness of it indicating just how deep it ran, leaving him looking like his own skin could just rot away.

His breaths were shallow, his chest barely able to rise enough to take any air into his lungs. His left shoulder was clearly misplaced, if not completely shattered. His throat had boiling red marks that looked like hands that had wrapped around it. Hands that left reddened blisters in their place.

There was blood running from his ears and nose. His saliva that ran from his mouth was a pink mixture of watered down blood. His eyes blood shot and red. The normally bright green was dull and dying. His hips were exposed, his boxers removed slightly from his waist, showing bruises and the same boiling red hand marks that were on his neck.

Bobby looked around but didn't see any of his clothes. It didn't surprise him; the demons could have removed them without ever touching him.

He laid with his left leg straight and his right leg bent at the knee, his foot pulled in toward his leg. There were bruises running inside his thighs and legs. Angry red marks around his ankles.

They needed Dean to stay calm so they didn't dare investigate his injuries too much. They knew what he had been through in the recent past and the trauma that still lived inside his head. They couldn't risk the chance of the fear that could come from a simple touch to an area that could flood his body with memories.

The ambulance was on the way. He would get a full examination and care for his injuries when he saw a doctor. He was going to the hospital, there was no debate in that. He would die without the proper care. How the hell he was still alive was something none of them could figure out.

The closer the sirens got the more Dean's life seemed to drain. His eyes closed. No longer able to hold onto the strength to keep them open. He could still hear the wailing of the sirens, could still feel the throbbing pain in his head. Then, everything went blank.

It didn't take them long to have him loaded and headed to the hospital. It was critical. Too critical for anyone to even have time to stop and absorb what had just happened.

John turned, staring at the pool of both dry and fresh blood that laid on the ground. His son's blood. There were pieces of tissue that should have been settled between his skull and brain that was mixed with the blood. It seemed to stare back at John, reminding him how serious this was, how critical his son was.

"Bobby?" John sounded like he was in a trance, like he couldn't think, couldn't comprehend what had just happened. He needed to be certain that his friend was still there, but he couldn't take his eyes off the place his son once laid.

Bobby laid a hand on John's shoulder. "Come on, we better get heading to the hospital."

"Yeah."

"Dad?" Sam questioned with sadness overwhelming his voice.

"Sam." John sighed.

"He's gonna be alright, right? He's gotta be okay. He's Dean, he's always okay, right? Tell me he's going to be okay. Please!" Sam's question had turned to a sobbing beg, pleading for reassurance that his brother would be okay.

"I don't know, son. I don't know." John sighed.

"You can't say that! Please, not you." Sam sobbed. "He has to be okay. You always say he's going to be okay. You always say he's too tough to be taken out. You always say he'll make it through everything." Tears ran down his cheek. "Please, Dad, please tell me he'll be okay!"

John wrapped his youngest son in his arms and let him shed his tears into his shoulder. He couldn't mask the truth, not this time. This time he was scared. He was scared that his oldest son may have met his match. He was scared that the thing that killed his wife and Sam's girlfriend might be the thing that killed Dean too.

"Come on, let's go check on your brother." John said as Sam's sobbed began to slow. He squeezed Sam just a little harder and ended with a pat to his back.

Here they sat, in the ICU. Dean hadn't woken up. He hadn't made any sign that he was going to wake up. He didn't respond to anyone who had spoken to him. He laid, lifeless. Machines and tubes hooked to him. A tube ran down his throat, hooked to the machine that breathed for him.

Stitches closed the split skin on his face and repaired his lip that had been torn during the beating. His head was loosely wrapped but not yet repaired. The doctors said it was best to allow room for his brain to swell, that they would close everything up once the swelling went down and no longer needed the extra space.

They had at least stopped the bleeding. They also sent him into surgery to repair the laceration he received to his spleen and a damaged kidney that was causing internal bleeding. Even with the repair, his urine that fell into the bag that was attached to the catheter looked like blood.

The doctors said he may have some more internal bleeding but he wasn't strong enough for more surgery, unless it became life threatening, at this time it wasn't. He did have blood running through an IV in his arm, replenishing what he had lost, along with normal fluids, antibiotics, pain meds, and what was needed to keep him loosely sedated.

John reached out and rubbed his son's hand. "Hey there, Dean. It's Dad. You gotta hang in there, kid. You hear me? You gotta hang in there, you gotta fight this."

John's voice was filled with so much emotion, so much raw, exhausted emotion. Every regret, every fear was filling him at this moment. He needed his oldest son to be okay. He needed Dean to pull out of this. He always has. No matter what, he's always been okay. But, this time, they weren't so sure.

The doctors told him as long as Dean continued to fight they would do all they could to save him. They didn't expect a positive outcome but were willing to try as long as they could tell he was fighting.

There was mention of removing all the machines if no improvement in a certain amount of time, but John wouldn't hear it. He couldn't. He couldn't just give up on his son like that, no matter what it took, he would make sure Dean had the most chance he could get.

Sam wanted to crawl beside his brother like he's always done. Dean had always been there to calm his fears, but right now, the one thing he needed most he couldn't have. He had moved as close to his brother as he could physically get. He laid his head beside Dean's, sharing the pillow that rested beneath him. He held Dean's hand in his.

"Dean. I'm sorry. I need you to be okay. I need you so much right now. I need you to tell me you'll be okay. Please, fight this. I don't know what to do without you. Dad and I, we'll be so lost if you're not here."

Sam's words became choked out by the tears that soaked into Dean's pillow. He closed his eyes and listened to Dean's breathing, the breathing the machines were doing for him. He listened to the monitor beep with his heart rate.

The days became blurs of lifelessness. They stayed by Dean's side, but also made sure they finished what he had started. Two weeks had passed and there didn't seem to be any more missing kids. What was there, the demons, seemed to be gone, the kids safe from whatever their plans were.

Sam had laid his head as close to Dean's as he could get, as often as he was allowed. He couldn't seem to pull himself away. He felt like every moment could be his last and he wanted to make the most of each moment with his brother.

"Dean? Dad!" Sam jumped from his brother as his body started to shake as he seized.

The nurses rushed in, pushing the men to the side. Medicine was given, machines were adjusted. Then everything went still again. The panic that filled the air was gone.

There they stood, shocked and scared. The hope they were holding onto seemed to shatter before them. Sure, Dean was still with them, his heart still beating. But, the doctor had said he might start having seizures as his brain died. He had explained to them that even if his heart still beat it didn't mean his mind was still alive. He had told them even if he did wake, he may never be the same again, he may not even have brain function.

But, the doctor didn't know who he was talking about. This was Dean Winchester. He pulled through everything. Always. And, this. This couldn't be any different. It just couldn't.

The day went by in another blur, another seizure had the nurses rushing into his room, pushing the men to the side, filling the space with panic and chaos. The doctor tried to convince them it would be the best for Dean to end his suffering, but John wouldn't hear of it, he was certain he hadn't seen any signs of his son suffering. He would know if he was.

He yelled at the doctor. To Bobby and Sam's surprise, the doctor seemed to remain calm through John's anger. He couldn't lose his son. He was one thing that was always supposed to be there. One thing that he took for granted.

John's anger had started getting the best of him. He even managed to yell at Dean. Sure, Dean couldn't hear him, or at least he couldn't respond if he did, but John couldn't help himself. He needed this nightmare to be over.

"Damn it Dean!" John screamed. "You're supposed to be okay. You're always supposed to be okay. You're Dean fucking Winchester. Winchesters don't just lay down and give up! You don't just lay down and give up!"

Bobby and Sam didn't know how to respond to John's outbursts. They just sat back and watched them happen. Each one of them was dealing with the situation in their own way.


	67. Chapter 67

**CHAPTER 67**

Darkness, it was darkness again. Pure, pitch black darkness. Dean stood in the middle of It, confused, feeling lost. "Mom?" His shout echoed through the darkness. "Mom?" He shouted louder. The last time he was in this darkness he saw his mom, he had hoped that's where he was again.

He spun around, trying to see anything, anything but darkness.

"Dean, sweetheart." Mary's body formed before his eyes.

"Mom." Dean sighed with relief. "Wh…what's going on? Why am I here? Am I… dead?"

"That's up to you."

"What do you mean?" Dean's forehead crinkled between his eyebrows, he was uncertain of this confusion he was feeling.

Mary stepped forward and placed her hand gently on Dean's cheek. He startled, pulling away to look at the hand that had touched him, then leaning into her loving embrace.

"You have to decide what you want this time. If you want life you have to fight for it. If not, then you get to choose to give up."

"What happens if I give up?"

"I'm not sure, you'll go where ever you're supposed to go."

"Will I get to stay with you?"

"I'm sorry, but once you're gone you won't be able to see me anymore."

"I don't want to lose you." Dean stated almost so quietly he couldn't be heard.

"I'm sorry. It's just the way things are." Mary's loving eyes were locked onto her oldest son's eyes.

"Mom? I… I don't understand what's going on. I don't know what happened to bring me back here."

"You were attacked, by demons."

"I… I remember being at a bar. I was with the waitress, I had to prove to myself that I was still me. You know, with the women and all."

Dean was thankful for the darkness, it hid the blushing of his cheeks. "Then there were these two girls who I was flirting with, and I think we were talking about getting out of there and uh, going back to my room. But, some of that is fuzzy and I don't remember anything else."

"There was more to it than that."

"What do you mean?"

"Those girls, they were possessed, they were demons. They slipped something in your drink. After that they led you to the pool table where the others waited for you. After a few rounds of pool and some more drinks with demon spike in them, they took you out back."

"I don't remember that."

"I know." She stroked his face.

"Then what?" Dean looked at his mom with confusion and a need to know what was happening to him.

"They attacked you."

"Did they win?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"How bad do you want to fight?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"What did they do to me?"

Mary looked up at her oldest son. He had grown into such a strong man. He was perfect, she felt pride when she saw him. No matter what mistakes he may make in life she would always be proud of the man he became. He had been through so much lately her heart broke. She wanted nothing more than to embrace him, to tell him everything would be okay, to protect him. But, that's not the way things were meant to be, not anymore.

"You sure you want to know?"

"Yes."

"They ganged up on you, plus they had the strength of the demons inside of them. You didn't have a chance, even if you were sober you wouldn't have had a fighting chance."

"Mom. Please." Dean practically sobbed the words out. His body started feeling weak, his head spinning just slightly.

"They had the strength to damage your insides, to cause massive internal bleeding. Most of it the doctors got to stop, but you still have some, right now, it's not life threatening. You have some broken ribs and a messed up shoulder. Lots of stitches and bruises."

"Doctors? Am I in a hospital?"

"Yes."

"If it's not life threatening then why am I here?" His body started to sway as he allowed himself to lower to the floor.

Mary knelt in front of her son, taking his face into her hands. "It's not the internal bleeding that's life threatening. It's the brain damage you received."

"The what!" Dean questioned, shocked.

"You were on concrete, between that and the force they held, your head was split open, so was your skull. You have some pretty serious brain injury."

"Am…. Am I going to be okay? I mean, if I live and all?"

"I'm sorry. I don't have that answer."

"Mom? Sam and Dad."

"They are with your body right now. So is Bobby."

"They… they found me?" Dean's head was spinning, he couldn't seem to think straight. "I… I think I remember…. I remember yellow eyes. He was… he was on top of me? Then, Bobby? Maybe? And Sam? I remember Sam. I'll always know Sammy."

"Yes. And your dad was there too, but you didn't see him before you went unconscious."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"That's the demon that killed you?"

"Yes, it was."

"Wh…why? Why did he kill you?"

"For reasons you won't yet understand. One day, son, one day you'll know, and you'll understand."

Dean felt his world start to shake. His body trembled. "I… I can't be more of a burden. I've already weighed too heavy on them. Bobby, he's tough, but Dad and Sam, I've put too much on them. If I'm not going to be okay, if I'm just going to continue to be a burden, then how can I choose to go back?"

"I am so proud of the man you've become. No matter what your choice is, I want you to know that." Mary's words were filled with such love and compassion. Her eyes held sympathy.

"Mom?"

His head started feeling weird. He was dizzy, his world was spinning. Then, he felt wetness, soaking into something behind his head. Then he could feel the blows of the demons. He could hear the laughter of them, waiting for him to join them, to become one of them.

Was that Sammy's hand touching his? Was that Sammy's voice he could hear? He couldn't understand what he was saying, but he could hear it.

"Mom?" Dean shouted again as he held the sides of his spinning head with his hands.

Each moment made him more and more confused. Sammy. He needed to comfort Sammy. He could almost taste his brother's tears. He could almost feel his brother's trembles through his own.

Beeping. Loud beeping. And laughter, evil laughter. He could feel the inpatients from the demons who waited for him. He knew where he was going. There was obviously no doubt about that. He hadn't seen a warm bright light. He only felt the evil that awaited him.

He supposed he deserved it. He wasn't afraid of that. He was afraid of leaving his brother. He was afraid of Sam being by his side, watching him take his last breath.

"You need to decide, Dean. Your time is almost up." Then, without warning Mary disappeared.

Once again, Dean was alone in the darkness. So many sounds flooding his ears. So much spinning in his head. He needed to decide something but he couldn't remember what. Then suddenly his world shook like an earthquake had just hit.

It continued to shake as his world fell out from under him. He was falling, farther and farther down. He landed, on his knees, on blacktop and gravel. The smell of diesel fluid filled his nose.

No no no no. He did not want to be here. He would go anywhere but here. He didn't want to experience this again. He knew what was coming. He would always remember this exact moment in time.

 _Dad was already three days late coming home. Another hunter had called the motel room, relaying the message for John that he would be home late. Dean had hit the truck stop when they first arrived, but that was two weeks ago._

 _John had only left them enough food for a week, if that. Sam was a growing boy. They both were, but Dean wasn't worried about himself. He had to make sure Sam had enough food to keep him satisfied. Not to mention, his clothes were getting a little too snug, and he made sure Dean knew it too._

 _So, Dean made his way down to the local thrift store and got his brother some bigger clothes, and, after hitting up the food bank, he went to the store and got him enough food to last while their dad was gone. He had put away the rest. He knew Sam would need it later. Maybe the next town they went to, or maybe he would need more clothes, or school supplies. He always made sure he kept some secret money stashed away for food too._

 _With Dad being gone the extra days, Dean had decided he needed to make more money. He had made the decision not to get into his stash, not when he had the opportunity to just go out and make more. The stash was for the times they needed things and he didn't have any way of making more money._

 _He hadn't planned on going back out. He knew they would be set for the week with what he made, but now, here he was, back on his knees. He was face deep in some stranger's hips. The man had himself pushed inside of him as far as he could go. Dean couldn't breathe, he knew how this went. They would pull out, allowing him to get a breath, before shoving their way back down his throat._

 _This time, it seemed to be different. For some reason, this time scared him. He wasn't sure why, not at first, but as the night progressed he began to realize he should have listened to himself in the beginning._

 _This man, he wasn't releasing him. He wasn't allowing Dean the needed breath. And now, his pants had dropped to his ankles. He couldn't turn to see who was behind him, he needed to concentrate on staying awake, not allowing the lack of oxygen to make him pass out._

 _Finally, the man released Dean's head. It didn't take him anytime to pull away from the man and gasp for air. The man's hand was once again pressed on the back of Dean's head, forcing his way into his abused throat._

 _The man behind him, slipped a finger inside. Dean's body jerked with the sudden, unexpected pain._

" _This one's tight." The man laughed. "You an ass virgin, boy?"_

 _Dean wasn't able to reply, he was being held by the man in front of him._

" _Damn." The man behind him replied. "You must be a real young one! You're so damn small." He said as he tried to force the thumb on his other hand inside with his other thumb._

 _Dean squirmed. The man hadn't even bothered using lube or anything to help with the friction. The first man released his head again, allowing Dean to pull away, this time his gasp of air came with a cry of pain._

" _Feels good, doesn't it?" The man laughed. As the other one forced his way back into Dean's mouth. Once the man in front of him finished, he was spun around and the man who was behind him had taken the place of the first man._

 _He was frustrated because Dean was so small and unable to give him the satisfaction he was looking for, but he took full advantage of the boy's throat._

 _Another man, took his place behind him. Then took over once the man was finished. Each man dropped his money on the pile that grew beside him._

 _He lost track of the time, lost track of how many men had their fingers inside of him and penises down his throat. He was exhausted. He had never felt so exhausted after a night out. But, then again, he had never had a night like the one he just experienced._

 _Blood dripped from his abused ass, they joked about how they 'popped his cherry'. Of course, Dean didn't know what that meant. He was only 11 years old. But, even though he had a lot of fingers inside him, despite some of them trying their hardest, no one was able to force themselves fully inside of him._

 _He stumbled into the small motel room that had been converted into a one bedroom apartment. He shoved the wad of cash in his bag and headed for the shower._

 _When he came out of the shower Sam was awake. "What's for breakfast, Deany?"_

" _Cereal." Dean's voice was rough. His throat raw and sore. It was a feeling he was sure he should have gotten used to by now, but this time seemed to be the worst. His throat felt like it was on fire._

" _What's wrong with your voice?" Sam questioned._

" _Don't feel good, guess I'm getting sick?"_

 _Sam crinkled up his nose at the thought of his brother getting sick. Dean poured Sam a bowl of cereal and glass of juice._

" _Eat up, you've got school in a little while." Dean reminded him as he threw on a pair of sweats and t-shirt. There was no way he was going to be able to wear his regular jeans today._

" _Aren't you gonna get dressed for school too?" Sam asked with a mouth full of cereal._

 _Dean shook his head, clearing his throat before he could speak. "Don't feel good, think I'm gonna stay home today."_

" _Dad'll be mad." Sam warned._

 _Dean poured a cup of juice, grimacing at the burn the acid left in his throat. "He's not home is he?"_

" _Don't mean he's not gonna be."_

" _I'll take my chances. Now, hurry up, so I can get you to school and get back to rest."_

 _Sam rolled his eyes and finished getting ready for school. Dean walked Sam to school, slower than he normally would. His body ached as bad as if he would have gotten the hell beat out of him._

 _Sam wasn't too happy about Dean not being at school, but he promised he'd be there waiting to pick him up before he got out. He watched Sam enter the building before he turned and headed back toward the place they called home._

 _He had put a hoodie on before he left the room. He made sure the hood was up, hiding his face, as he walked past the truck stop. He knew everyone was gone, back on the roads again. But the feeling he held inside wouldn't seem to go away._

 _Dean stepped inside, feeling guilty about leaving Sam, but he allowed himself to fall on his stomach and sleep. He had been up all night, enduring the punishments the men wanted to push onto him, he needed sleep. He needed his body to relax and heal. He needed his throat to stop burning._

 _He set the alarm and let himself fall into a deep sleep. So deep, in fact, he lost track of his hunter's skills. The hand that had grabbed the back of his neck took him by surprise. The large hand that had grabbed him, bent his body backwards, forcing a cry of pain and surprise._

 _It took him longer than it should have to realize the hand that had grabbed him was his dad's. "DEAN WINCHESTER!" John shouted. "What the hell are you doing home and where the hell is your brother?"_

" _I…. I don't feel good." Dean was startled from a deep sleep, his harsh voice cracked as he spoke. "Ssssam's at school. I took him to school and I have the alarm set to pick him up. Sir."_

 _Dean was laying on his stomach and hadn't had a chance to move positions between the time he was startled awake to when his dad had grabbed his hair, pulling his body into a backward folding position. Dean's already exhausted, aching body trembled under his dad's hold._

" _What the hell is wrong with you!"_

 _John demanded answers. It didn't matter what was wrong with Dean, he was supposed to make sure his little brother was safe._

" _I… I'm sorry. I made sure he was inside before I left him, I promise. And, I told him I'd be back before he got out." Dean's words were broken by coughs and clearing of his throat._

" _You know you're supposed to be with him!"_

" _I'm sorry, sir. I… I don't… I'm sick… I'm sorry. Sir." Dean stuttered as he watched his dad's fist move forward, striking the exposed ribs of his oldest son._

 _He moaned, trying to hold in any sign of discomfort and pain. Another punch followed the first, then another. Dean's twisted body was unable to move away from the blows or protect himself. Not that he would protect himself, he deserved it, and he knew it._

"NO!" Dean shouted as the darkness once more filled his vision. "I'm not going back there again! I'm not!"

He heard a sound behind him, as he turned he was welcomed by the sight of his baby. His brother was sitting in the passenger seat waiting for him.

" _Come on, Dean. Hurry up!" Sam leaned over the driver seat, calling for his brother._

" _What's the rush all about?" Dean questioned as he made his way behind the wheel of his baby._

" _What do you mean what's the rush all about? You were the one who couldn't wait to get an early start. Said you couldn't wait to get to Bobby's."_

" _Oh yeah, that's right." Dean recalled as he remembered this day too. "Dude, we're gonna have a blast, man! Bobby's got some good meat he's gonna put on the grill, and I can't wait to work on that car with him. And, you're gonna fill your head with all the mumble jumble in those books. Dude, Bobby's is the closest thing to a home we've ever had!"_

" _Yeah, well, don't forget Dad's gonna be there too."_

" _It's alright, Sammy boy." Dean reached over and patted his brother's knee. "It's going to be a great weekend. Even Dad is going to be fun to be around. You'll see!"_

" _Yeah, we'll see." Sam sighed._

" _Hey, not all our memories with Dad are bad. I mean, was your childhood really that traumatic?"_

" _No. But still."_

" _No, Sammy. Dad's not as bad as you think. I mean, sure, he has his issues, but we all do. It'll be a great weekend, you'll see!"_

The darkness filled his vision again. He frantically looked around, trying to find the memory again. It was a good memory. There weren't too many of those that he remembered. He wanted to hold onto that one.

His world shook again, and his head spun. His mind spun and he had a sinking feeling. A feeling like he was fading, like this was the end.

He looked around the darkness again, trying to see his mom one last time, but she wasn't there. She had said she wouldn't be. She told him once he went to where ever he was going she wouldn't be there.

"Mom?" Dean called but no one answered.

Panic, fear, pain, a heartache so deep it would never heal. Fading, confusion, spinning, tears. Dean knew what he had to do! He knew what decision needed to be made.


	68. Chapter 68

**CHAPTER 68**

Sam perched in his chair at the edge of Dean's bed. His eyes were red and puffy from tears. The doctor had tried to convince John, one more time, that it would be best for Dean if they just let him go. He was convinced he was suffering.

John couldn't, he just couldn't. He knew his son would fight, that was the point of this whole thing. It wasn't so he could just give up, it was so he could fight, or die trying. And damn it, John was going to let Dean have his way. Until there was no sign of life he was determined to let his boy fight. He had only hoped Dean had remembered that he was supposed to be fighting.

John stood at the window in Dean's room. It over looked the desert plains. He was deep in thought when Sam startled him back into reality.

"Dean!"

Sam exclaimed, causing John to turn and look at his boys. Sam turned his head to look at his dad.

"Dad? Dean just moved his hand, I swear he did."

John sighed as he walked beside his sons. "It's probably just some type of seizure."

When had he started doubting his son's ability to fight? If he couldn't count on anything else in this world he could always count on the fact Dean would fight his way through anything, no matter what.

"No, this was different!"

Sam pulled his hand away from Dean's in frustration. He needed his dad to believe him, he knew his brother better than anyone and he had held his hand through the seizures, none of them felt like this.

Dean stretched his first two fingers out, reaching for the hold he had just lost. He needed that. He needed the hand that held him to reality. Without it, he was floating through a darkness, unsure of where to go or what to do.

"See!" Sam exclaimed as he took Dean's hand back in his.

His hand relaxed, his fingers dropped into his brother's grip.

"I'll be damn!" John exclaimed. He bent beside his son's bed. "Hey, Dean, Buddy, you in there? You gotta let us know if you can hear us."

Dean tried, he really did, but he couldn't seem to be able to respond to the voice he heard. The words didn't all make sense, but he knew he knew the voice that was talking.

"Sam. Pull your hand away again." John ordered.

Sam did as he was told. It took him a few seconds, but Dean had started trying to reach for the hand he had lost again. Sam started to reach back for his brother, but John placed his hand on Sam's arm, stopping him from returning to his brother's touch.

After another moment Dean's arm started joining the reach. His hand searching for the thing he had lost. The longer he went without his brother, the more desperate he seemed to search.

Just as John was preparing to call for the nurse, Dean's eyes flew open. His hand reaching for the object that was assaulting his throat. He couldn't breathe. The air was being forced into his lungs, but he wasn't able to take a breath of his own.

He knew this feeling all too well. Panic rose in him. He needed the object that was shoved down his throat out. He felt like it was another man, like so many times before, holding themselves in his throat, blocking the air he so desperately needed.

His mind couldn't seem to think of anything else. He needed to breathe. But, wait. He was breathing, but he wasn't able to draw in a breath of air. None of it seemed to make sense. He was sure it was some type of torture someone was forcing upon him. Some type of punishment he was deserving of.

John yelled for the nurse as him and Sam both grabbed Dean's hands, holding them away from the tube. He struggled, tried to pull his hands away. Panic grew. Now, not only was someone forcing their way down his throat, but they were restraining him too. No, no, no. This can not be happening, not again. He couldn't handle this again.

He fought to pull his hands away from the ones that were grabbing his. He knew what was going to come next and there was no way he could handle that. Not now. He wasn't sure why he couldn't, it was just a feeling he had somewhere deep down inside. He tried to scream, to tell them no, to beg them to let him go. But, he couldn't. He couldn't because they had already assaulted his throat to the point he couldn't get any sound out.

The nurses rushed in, and in the sudden burst of activity, Dean managed to get use of one of his hands again. He didn't hesitate to reach for the thing that was blocking his own breaths and started to pull on it. The tug was followed by a burning sensation.

Dean knew that feeling too. The burning and rawness of a throat that had been abused and over used. He knew how it felt the nights he worked and the days to follow, how long it took for the soreness to go away. But, it usually hurt worse when someone was shoved down his throat than when it was coming out. There were usually enough fluids to make the exit smooth.

The nurse grabbed his arm and held it away from his face. "No, don't do that. You're only going to hurt yourself worse. You need to leave it alone, it's helping you, okay?"

Dean's eyes looked like they were a million miles away, his expression was one of someone who was lost and confused. Someone who was unsure of anything. Someone who was scared. He scanned the room with his eyes, not sure what he was looking for, or what he wanted to find. His eyes never settled on one thing, or a specific person. But, he was trying to locate the threat none the less.

"Gonna have to get respiratory in here." The nurse explained. "He's got that tube pulled part of the way out." The second nurse that was in the room made her way to the desk to call for the respiratory nurse.

Dean struggled to pull his hand free again.

"Dean." The nurse spoke calmly. "I need you to listen to me. That tube, that's in your throat. It's there to help you. It helps you breathe. I know you're trying to breathe on your own now, but you gotta be patient. It has a little ball on the end of it that's inflated, when you pull on the tube, the ball is just going to tear at your throat, the same way a catheter would do if you pulled it out. Trust me, you don't wanna do that. You need to wait for the right nurse to get here. Okay?"

Dean listened but was still confused. He still needed to free the restraints from his arms. He needed to push away the person that was burning his throat. He needed to hurry up, before Dad got back, before Sammy woke up.

This wasn't the way things were supposed to go. He had made the decision to fight, to live, to stay with his dad and Sam. But, he wasn't planning on forgetting about that part, and coming back to a head full of memories and flashbacks. He wasn't expecting to not know where he was at, or what was happening.

The nurses worked quickly to remove the dislodged tube from his throat as Dean struggled against the soft restraints the nurses had put on his wrists and ankles. Everyone seemed to equally dislike the fact he was tied to the bed, but at this point it was the best thing for his own safety and wellbeing. They reassured Sam that once he had calmed and respiratory was able to do their job he would have the restraints removed.

His breathing stopped for a moment while they worked at removing the vent. He needed air. His throat was raw and burning. He didn't know how to get the air he needed. He didn't know what to do. He had forgotten how to take a breath, how to breathe.

The nurse put a bag valve mask on him, the type they would use for CPR, and pushed air into Dean's lungs, giving him the ability to take in a gasp of air. At first, his breathing was shallow and he would skip too many breaths, causing the nurse to force another breath into his oxygen starved lungs. After around five minutes of having to push air inside his lungs when his brain forgot how to breathe, he was once again breathing normal, or almost normal.

He wasn't forgetting to breathe, and although his lungs were burning, he didn't feel like they were starving for oxygen. He did have an oxygen mask he was wearing but his oxygen levels rose to a satisfying number. They explained to Sam and John its best for Dean to leave the mask on as long as he would tolerate it, if it became an issue they would change it to the nasal cannula.

They had released his arms and his hands instantly reached for his face, feeling the mask and his throat. He closed his eyes against the confusion that swam in front of him. His arm fell beside him, his trembling hand opening slowly, his fingers outstretched, trying to find the one thing that seemed to keep him grounded. With his eyes closed, he was sure he could find it. He was sure things would seem so much calmer and clearer.

"Dean, you with me buddy?" John spoke softly.

Dean swallowed, his throat burning, he slightly moved his head against the new raw pain, his face scrunched, his eyes tightened. He held his breath for just a moment before the oxygen was pushing its way into his lungs and he took a deep breath.

The burning of his lungs reminded him how much his body was starved for oxygen. The emptiness of his hand reminded him how alone and lost he was.

"Can you open your eyes for me?" John requested, without response.

Dean could hear him speaking, knew he knew the voice, but wasn't sure exactly what it was saying. Something inside of him told him the voice may not be safe to respond to, but another part of him said it was. It only made the confusion stronger.

Bobby, who up till this point had stood in the background observing the family in front of him, made his way to the bedside. He tapped Sam on the shoulder, making the younger lad get up and allow Bobby to sit down. He placed one strong hand in Dean's empty hand. Instantly, Dean reacted by returning the embrace. Sure, his wasn't as strong, but it was still the gesture that counted. He placed another hand on Dean's forehead.

"Hey there, Dean." Bobby's gruff voice hid the tears that lurked behind his words.

Dean turned his head toward Bobby. The voice, he recognized it too. He wasn't completely sure who it was, he couldn't place it in his brain yet, but he knew he could trust it. He knew it was comfort for him.

His mind twisted and turned trying to place the voice where it belonged.

" _I expected more out of you! What the hell is wrong with you, boy?"_

" _You're weak, and stupid, you'll never amount to anything."_

" _Your Daddy know you're out here on your knees like a whore?"_

" _What's the matter? Your Mommy not love you enough to give a shit about you?"_

" _Do you like it when men fuck you? Is that what you want?"_

" _Do you like it rough?"_

Dean's breathing increased with the words that ran through his head. His mind fighting not to remember what it was bringing up. The fear. The heartache. The loneliness.

Bobby place his hand on Dean's forehead, lightly wiping away the sweat that beaded. He then moved his hand and placed in in the center of Dean's chest.

"Calm down, boy. It's okay. It's just me and your dad and brother. Whatever's going through that head of yours, it's not happening right now."

Bobby's calming words and gentle touch seemed to calm Dean's breathing and relax his tense body. He fluttered his eye open slightly and stared at the form that sat beside him. He couldn't seem to focus, everything looked dark and fuzzy, but he knew it was a person, that was certain.

Of course, in Dean's mind that wasn't necessarily a good thing. He snapped his eyes closed again, not able to process anything properly. His body trembled under Bobby's touch.

"Mom." Dean called out quietly.

John closed his eyes in sorrow. His boy had almost died, they were still unsure of his brain damage, and the first thing he does is call for his mom.

"Dean?" John spoke, moving closely to his son's side.

"Dad?" Dean recognized the voice. He still wasn't able to process everything, but somehow, while his eyes were closed, he recognized his dad's voice.

"Yeah, yeah son, it's me." John stroked Dean's upper arm gently.

Dean's body tensed and his eyes opened, staring directly at his dad. "Please, sir." Dean pleaded. "I… I didn't mean to, I won't do it again, please, don't." His voice broke with a near sob.

"Dean." John's face crinkled with confusion and heartache. "You haven't done anything wrong. It's okay."

Dean blinked rapidly trying to process what his dad had just said. He wasn't sure how to feel about the fact his dad was touching him and had said he hadn't done anything wrong. He was pretty sure the only time John ever touched him it was always followed by some type of punishment, some sort of pain.

Dean slowly turned his head so he was looking at the other man who was touching him. "Bbbbobby?" Dean's speech stuttered as he fought against the darkness that threatened to take him under again.

"Yeah, boy. You're okay. You got that? You just keep fighting."

Dean slowly closed his eyes and slowly reopened them. He continued to stare at Bobby. He was trying to remember. Trying to place everything together.

"Wwwwhhh… Ssss'mmy?"

"Hey Dean, I'm right here." Sam stepped into Dean's line of sight and stood beside Bobby.

"yyyyou kay?"

"Yeah, I'm good, I'm not the one who decided to go ten rounds with a group of damn demons."

Dean barely nodded his head slowly. "S'nds about right."

Sam couldn't help but smile, that was the brother he knew. No matter what permanent injuries may be lurking beneath the surface, he knew his brother was still there.

"Do you remember what happened?" Bobby questioned.

Dean slowly and carefully shook his head 'no'.

"It's okay, I'm sure it'll come back to you, it always does. Your head is too damn hard for a little concrete to mess you up."

Dean reached up toward his head, feeling the bandage that wrapped around it. "Imma Winchester, what you expect?"

The three men couldn't help but chuckle at him.

He slowly closed his eyes and struggled to open them again. John had moved so he was standing behind Bobby and Sam. He knew Dean needed to move his head as little as possible, and he could only look one direction at a time.

"I'mmm sssorryy Dddad." Dean struggled to get the words out. They came out sounding more like a sob, a cry being held back by his toughness.

"Hey, Champ, you don't have anything to be sorry for, you hear me?"

"Yyyes sir."

"Dean? What do you think you gotta apologize for?" Bobby questioned.

Dean shrugged his shoulders. "I'm in the hospital ain't I?"

"Yeah, you are."

"So, I must've done something wrong to get here."

"No, no you didn't." John spoke up. "Dean. You didn't do a damn thing wrong, you hear me? You didn't deserve a damn thing either. You're here because you tried to do exactly what I wanted. You tried to be the person you thought I wanted. To be honest, I guess you were right. I did want you to be someone you're not. I just didn't realize it. I'm the one that should be apologizing."

"Too much, Dad." Dean replied. He was trying to keep up with his dad's words but couldn't. "Ssslow down."

"Sorry."

"I'm try'n"

"I know you are, son. You're doing good. You hear me. You're doing good. You just keep trying. Keep fighting through this."

Dean's eyes drifted half open and closed. He fought the physical need to close them. The drowsiness that seemed to overwhelm his senses was winning against his fight.

"It's okay." John said, placing a gentle hand over Dean's eyes, moving his hand downwards. "Sleep. You need to rest so you can heal."

John removed his hand and Dean's eyes remained closed. "Don't leave." Dean spoke with his eyes closed, not directing his comment to anyone specific. His voice was full of fear and uncertainty. He couldn't fight his body any longer, but his mind screamed for comfort and safety.

"We're all three right here, don't you worry about that, boy. No one is leaving you alone." Bobby assured him as Dean allowed the darkness to overcome him.

" _It's going to be fun getting my hands all over a Winchester."_

Dean's eyes squeezed tight and released.

" _I've heard how you like it. Is that what you want?"_

His hands grasped the sheets beneath him.

" _Are you going to be a willing participant? Or, do you like it rough?"_

His heartrate increased.

" _What's a matter? Doesn't Daddy like the whore you've become?"_

His face scrunched as his eyes tightened, screwing closed as tightly as he could get them.

" _You think you're gonna walk up in here and destroy what we've worked so hard at creating?"_

His body tightened.

" _Open wide, I know how much you enjoy the taste."_

His jaw locked tight.

" _Scream for me, scream like the little bitch you are."_

His breathing increased.

Sam sat beside his brother, his hand resting on his arm, lightly rubbing it while he spoke gentle words. He tried to calm his brother. He knew he was having a nightmare. This was a common occurrence for both of them. But, usually Sam would know how to calm him, but right now, he didn't have a clue what to do.

" _You know, I could have you if I wanted you, we all could."_

His body clenched tighter.

" _Sammy would be so much better without you."_

Dean's head tossed to the side.

" _You're weak. You're broken. Nothing worth dear ole dad to give a shit about."_

His head tossed to the other side.

" _It's not like sweet Daddy wouldn't just stand back and watch it happen."_

He released a slight moan with the increase of his respiration

" _Dean-o been torn apart? Literally?"_

His breathing turned to panicked pants. His heart raced his breaths.

" _How does it feel? To have your own body torn apart?"_

His hands gripped the sheets so tightly that they turned white and trembled.

" _The pain feels good doesn't it? That's what you like, isn't it? You like the pain? You deserve the pain?"_

The sweat that was beading on his forehead started soaking the bandage and dripping down the sides of his face.

The nurses had entered the room, trying medication to get him to calm. Nothing seemed to be working. This nightmare had a grip on him, and it wasn't going to let go anytime soon. John tried to reassure the nurses he would be fine once he was able to wake. He explained to them it was a natural process in his healing, after everything he had been through lately.

"Hey, Dean." John knelt beside Dean's bed, placing his face beside his son's. "I need you to wake up for me, okay? Come on. It's okay. It's just a nightmare, open your eyes."

Dean released another audible cry. His entire body trembled under the fears that ran through his head. His breath and heart still raced each other for top speed. His jaw and fists clenched so tight they might shatter if they were touched. His face was scrunched into a painful expression.

" _You'll never amount to anything. This is all you're good for. All you'll ever be good for."_

" _On your knees boy, you're going to like this, I promise."_

" _You could always trade places with him, who is he to you anyhow?"_

" _Tell me, simple names and locations, and it'll all be over. The pain will end."_

" _Do you enjoy the pain?"_

" _Is this the way you like it?"_

" _Do you want more? I can always give you more."_

" _Toughen up, boy, you're not a damn girl, stop acting like one."_

" _It's either you, or your brother, you decide."_

" _If you don't move out of my way and let me at him then you'll get it instead, only it'll be ten times worse."_

Dean's periodical groans turned into cries, muffled screams and sobs. 'no!' 'Leave him alone!' 'Please…please, no.' were spoken between the crying sobs as he grasped the sheets as tight as he could. Every muscle in his body tightened more than ever before.

"Dean, hey. It's okay." Sam tried to soothe him.

He knew what he meant when Dean cried for them to 'leave him alone'. "I'm okay. You hear me? I'm right here. It's okay. Wake up for me, okay? Please, Dean. Please wake up for me."

Dean drew in a large gasp of air, stopping the scream that wanted to exit his lips. His eyes flew open, his body stiffly shot to a partial sitting position before the wires and tubes stopped him. "SAMMY!" He screamed.

"It's okay. I'm right here." Sam assured him as he grabbed his brother's hand.

Dean returned the grip, holding on tighter than he meant to.

"Ssssammmy?" Dean questioned while looking at this brother.

"Yeah, yeah it's me. I'm right here. I'm okay."

"Sammy." Dean breathed out as he relaxed his head back on the pillow behind him.

"I'm here. I'm here." Sam repeated as he grasped his brother's hand.

Dean closed his eyes, trying to will his body to calm down, trying to get himself back under control. He held onto this lifeline, his brother, searching for something, anything, to help calm him, to ground him.

"I got you Dean, it's all going to be okay. I got you." Sam reassured him as his body once again lost the fight against staying awake and falling asleep.


	69. Chapter 69

**CHAPTER 69**

Dean's sleep was restless. The nurses tried to give him medication to calm him, to sedate him, but it didn't seem to have any effect on the nightmares that ran through his head.

After trying everything possible, they decided to try the complete opposite, instead of making Dean calm during sleep, they woke him. The nurses were surprised that Dean didn't respond the way they had hoped, but the others understood. Dean lives a life that nightmares are made of. Of course, there was no way the nurses could even begin to understand that.

Even without the recent injuries, he held so much pain inside of him. So much heartache, so much love and lost and hurt.

"Hey, boy, why don't you wake up for me? Quit tryin' fight all these damn demons in your sleep."

Bobby gave Dean's shoulder a slight shake, bringing him back into the real world, slowly.

His eyes fluttered partly open and closed for a few moments before he was able to fully open them. He looked up and saw Bobby. No one else, only Bobby.

"Bobby?" Dean's voice sounded like it hadn't been used in years. It was dry and scratchy, weak and quiet.

"Yeah, I'm right here."

"Where's…. where's…"

"Your pa and Sam? Went to get some coffee. I stayed here with you while they left."

"Thank you."

"I wouldn't be so quick to thank me, I'm still planning on giving you one hell of a beat down when you get the hell outta this place."

Dean smiled and let out a puff of air that was as close to a chuckle as he could get. "I'm guessing I deserve it?"

"Damn straight you do! You practically disappeared, leaving nothing but a damn suicide note, under my door."

"Sorry. Not ringing a bell."

"It's okay. I'll make sure it comes back to your memory nice and clear."

Dean smiled again. "I'm sure you will."

"How you feeling, kid?"

"Like I have half a life I can't seem to piece together."

"Yeah, imagine so."

"My damn head is throbbing and I just wanna close my eyes, and not have to open them again."

"You mean die?"

Dean shrugged. "Don't know what I mean. You asked, I answered."

"You hurtin' anywhere besides your head?"

"Yeah." Dean tried to clear his throat, accepting the sips of water Bobby offered. "But, I guess I'll manage."

"Hmph."

"Hey, Bobby. When can we blow this joint?"

"Not anytime soon, kiddo."

"What! Why not?"

"Well, for starters, you have a damn hole in the back of your head, you idjit."

Dean reached and tried to feel for what Bobby was talking about. Bobby reached over and swatted Dean's hand away.

"Don't go poking on it. You gotta let it do it's healing."

"So, why don't they just close it up?"

"You broke your skull plum open. Your brain was hanging out. Gotta make sure you're not going to have anymore swelling in your brain before they can put your skull back together."

Dean chuckled a drug induced laugh. "Like Humpty Dumpty."

"Yeah, you done broke your noggin."

"Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell your something?"

"Of course."

"You can't tell Dad, or Sammy, promise?"

"Yeah, of course, you know I don't go telling nothin' to nobody."

"I know." Dean lowered his eyes, unsure of the words he was searching for.

"Well, what is it boy? Ain't got all day."

"I saw Mom." Dean looked back up at his friend, seeking his eyes for some type of reassurance that it was okay.

"How so?"

Dean shrugged. "In my dreams, I guess? It's not the first time either. I mean, things are a little jumbled up, but I know I've seen her before."

"What's it like when you see her?"

"It's pitch black and it's just her and me. She… she told me part of what happened. I don't really remember her exact words, but, she told me I had to choose. If I wanted to live or die. If I wanted to die, I wouldn't be able to see her again, she said I'd just go where I'm supposed to go, but if I lived I'd have to still fight to keep my body from giving up, and she didn't know if I was going to get better or not."

"Hmmm."

Bobby sat and listened to Dean explain things deeper. He talked about how he remembers her telling him she was proud of him and she believed in him to do whatever it was he needed to do at that time.

He explained how he had never felt that type of love, not since the night she died. He confined in Bobby how much he wanted his dad. How much he needed him. Not the hunter, not the man he had become. He didn't want the man who had the tough exterior, and even tougher interior. He wanted his daddy, he needed to feel the love and comfort. Of course, he would never admit that to anyone else. And, he swore if Bobby said anything, he would deny it.

He confessed the only reason he came back was to make sure Sammy was okay. He couldn't leave him. No matter what. He could never leave him, not if he was given a choice. He told Bobby how much he didn't want to make the decision he did. He didn't fear hell. He knew that was probably where he would go. He figured it couldn't be any worse than the life he lived. But, Sammy brought him back, and for that Bobby was thankful.

He followed up Dean's words with words of his own. He told Dean how much he was like a son to him. He told him how much he would be there for him, how he would fill in the gaps for his dad. All Dean needed to do was tell him what he wanted or needed. He told him how much he loved him and cared about him. He even shed some tears while he spoke.

Dean knew Bobby had always been like a dad to him, and for that he was thankful, but he wanted the real thing. He wanted his daddy.

"Bobby."

"Yeah?"

"I wish, sometimes, I could go back in time."

"What'd you want to do that for?"

"To go back to when Dad loved me."

Bobby sighed. "Boy, your daddy loves you, in his own way."

"Yeah, well his way isn't exactly loving."

"He does it the best he knows how."

"Yeah." Dean sighed with a roll of his eyes.

"You don't believe that anymore?"

"I don't know. I mean, my head is still kinda screwy, I'm not really sure how to feel right now. How I'm supposed to feel."

Bobby nodded. "We've been here before."

"Have we?"

"Yeah, you don't remember?"

Dean shook his head. He wasn't completely sure that anything in his head was real, or not real. "When I sleep. When I dream. I mean, there's so much that goes through my head. And, none of them seem to be good. And… I don't know what I'm supposed to do with all of it."

"Like what kind of stuff?"

"A lot with dad. The thing is, its just like parts, bad parts, and there's nothing good. I… I don't really remember everything right now, but I know that it can't all be bad, there has to be some good. But, why don't I remember any of it?"

At that moment John and Sam entered the room and the conversation between the two ended immediately. Bobby patted Dean on his shoulder, reassuring him that they would continue this at another time.

"Dean!" Sam was surprised to see his brother so fully awake.

Dean grinned. "Hey Sammy." He tried to adjust his body slightly but was met with the resistance of pain.

"Take it easy there, champ." John spoke up, placing a hand on his arm to keep him from moving.

None of them expected the reaction Dean gave when he startled and his body tensed under his dad's touch.

"So, when can we blow this popsicle stand?" Dean asked in his normal way, ignoring the reaction his body just gave to his dad's touch

Not only was he ignoring the physical reaction, but he was also ignoring the intense emotions that jumped inside of him. The uncertainty and deep fear that seemed to boil to the top. The confusion was the only thing holding it all together.

"Not so fast." John chuckled. "You have a big hole in the back of your head right now."

"Bobby said the same thing. So, fix it."

"Not that simple, son. It's going to take more than just stitches."

"I… I uh… I'm fine…" Dean's face showed the concern he was feeling, his respiration and heartrate increased slightly with fear.

"Yeah, I told them as little as your brain is it would have plenty of room to swell without any extra space in there." Sam joked, trying to lighten the mood and calm his brother.

"Funny, Bitch." Dean responded sarcastically.

"Jerk."

Dean gave Sam a sideways grin, thanking him for lightening things up. He then closed his eyes, shutting out the light that seemed to grow brighter with each passing moment. The light tapping in his head had increased to a thunderous pound.

"You okay?" Bobby questioned.

"Head… hurts." Dean mumbled.

"I'll see what they can give you for pain." John spoke as he headed out to find a nurse.

"It's okay, boy. You've done good. Just relax, your dad's getting you something for that head of yours." Bobby assured him.

"B'bby." Dean's words slurred with the increasing pain.

"Yeah?"

"Ddd'nt w'nnna sl…sleep."

"I know, but your gotta. You gotta sleep to make you feel better. I'll be right here. I'm not gonna leave you, and Sammy's here too. We'll try to keep the nightmares at bay."

Dean nodded slightly, not daring to open his eyes.

"Hey sweetie." The nurse entered the room, syringe in hand. "Your dad says you're hurting. Can you tell me a number from 1-10 on how bad you're hurting?"

"Hurts." Dean didn't dare open his eyes in fear the light would make it worse.

She chuckled. "Well, I already know that."

"Hurts. A lot." Dean added.

"Okay. Where does it hurt?"

"Head."

"Alright. I got you something to help with that pain. It'll probably make you drowsy, so don't fight it, just let yourself fall asleep. You got it? You've been awake for some time now. You need to sleep to heal."

"Just make it stop." Dean pouted.

"I've already given it to you. You should start feeling the effects in just a minute."

"Mmhhmm."

"Let me know if you need anything else." The nurse directed her response to the others in the room and then exited.

Sam sat nearby, keeping a hold on Dean's hand while he slept. He did his best to keep him calm when he could tell a nightmare was coming on. He wondered if Dean ever slept without them anymore. Even before this incident, his life had been turned upside down, and he seemed to have nightmares more than he didn't.

The doctor entered the room, examined him without waking him too much. Determined they would schedule the surgery to close his head and was gone again.

It was a relief to know he was healing well enough for the surgery, but that knowledge didn't take the heaviness out of the air.

"Hey, Sam, you mind staying here with your brother for a few? So, me and your dad can talk in private?"

"Sure, Bobby."

"Make sure you stay with him. If he wakes, he may be confused and will need to know someone is there, and he might need you to calm some nightmares."

"Don't worry, I've been doing that my whole life."

"I'm sure you have, and so has he." Bobby sighed as he nodded to John to follow him out of the room.

They waited until they were outside of the hospital before either of them said a word.

"What's up?" John questioned, leaning against the bricks on the outside of the building.

"I know we've all had it rough the past few months."

"That's an understatement."

"Yeah, well, how many times have you actually stopped to think about how much more Dean's gone through than the rest of us?"

"What'cha talking about?"

"You realize Dean's never really been taught how to live, how to survive, how to deal with things?"

"What's gotten into you? You know he's grown up just fine. Besides, I feel like we've already had similar conversations, a lot of times lately."

"You didn't just spend the time I did with him." Bobby sighed. His usual tall shoulders sunk and his body appeared defeated.

"No, I was out getting coffee with Sammy. What's eating at you, Singer?"

"I just wanna see that boy get a break. You know what I mean? He deserves it more than anyone I know. He needs someone… no, he needs YOU to show him everything is okay. He needs YOU to show him how to handle life in general. He needs YOU to teach him everything he should have learned as a kid. John, the kid needs YOU!"

"Bobby. I don't know how to teach him those things. I haven't exactly been the ideal role model."

"I know." Bobby sighed. "But, Dean told me he wants you, he needs you. Not the hunter you. He needs the dad you. The person you should have been all these years. The person you were the night Mary died."

"Why you gotta bring that up?"

"Because Dean did. He said that night was the last time he's felt real love, the last night he's felt important or like he was worth anything. I don't think any of us realize how deep his heartache runs."

"Bobby, this isn't anything new, we've already discovered this, what the hell is going on with you?"

"You damn idjit! Do you not realize how close we came to losing him?"

"But, we didn't. It's Dean, he always pulls out of everything."

"And, what if he doesn't? What if he's not able to completely pull out of this? He has significant memory loss. I think the things that was the strongest in his brain are the only things he remembers right now."

"Like what?"

"Like he's said he doesn't remember anything good, or happy, in his life. He only remembers the pain and heartache he's experienced. He knows there has to be more to his life than that, but he doesn't remember it."

"Great, more stories about how shitty of a dad I am?"

"Damn it, John! Don't do this. It isn't a blame game. Yeah, he told me some shitty things he remembers."

"Like what?"

"Don't matter."

"Yeah, it does."

"Why?"

"Because I think I have a right to know what the hell my son has said to you."

"The point is, Dean's hurting. He doesn't know what the hell to do with the pain he feels. He doesn't remember the good times. He doesn't remember the times you've loved him. And, he needs to hear it from you. Even if there's only one moment in his entire life that was a good memory, you need to be the one to remind him of that."

"Bobby, I don't know if I can. Sounds more like a Sam thing."

"That's the damn problem with you Winchester! You need to step up and be a damn dad for once in your life."

"Damn it Singer! What the hell do you think I've been doing? I can't help it if every time I turn around that kid is getting himself into another mess."

"It's not his fault, the same as none of this is your fault."

John pushed himself off the wall. "You keep telling yourself that." He turned and headed away from the hospital, he had decided the conversation was over and he didn't want to hear anymore of Bobby's nonsense.

Bobby sighed and shook his head as he headed back toward Dean and Sam. He entered the room to find Sam sitting beside Dean's bed, his head laying on the mattress beside his brother's arm. Sam's arm was slung over Dean's chest, his other hand was holding onto Dean's. Dean had his right arm across his body and his hand resting on the back of Sam's neck. Both brothers were sleeping.

Bobby couldn't help but chuckle to himself and shake his head when he saw the brothers. No matter what they will always be closer than two people could possibly be. They were all that each other knew, the only thing that ever remained constant in their lives.

"Get up, boy." John lightly smacked Sam on the back of his head, causing him to jump awake at the anger in his dad's tone. It didn't take him long to find his way back to his son's room.

"What the hell?"

"Go get you a room somewhere, take a break from this damn place."

It was more than obvious John was beyond irritated.

"Sounds like you're the one who needs the break." Sam noted.

"Watch your tongue, boy."

"Sammy?" The commotion had woken Dean from his sleep. He wasn't sure of much, but he knew his brother was by his side.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm right here."

Dean's expression was blank and his partly opened eyes weren't focused on anything imparticular as they scanned the parts of the room that were in his line of sight.

"How you feeling?" John asked with a pat to Dean's shoulder.

The grimace on his face told anyone who was paying attention that John had applied too much pressure and applied it to his injured shoulder. He attempted to pull his body away from his dad's hand that rested on the same shoulder but stopped in sudden fear of being punished for not allowing his dad to have control over him.

He didn't know how to answer. He searched his brain, quickly, for an answer that would be the correct one, but came up empty.

"John." Bobby tried to speak gently but his own irritation was growing inside. "That's his injured shoulder."

He had stood back and watched Dean's expressions of pain and discomfort long enough. He wasn't sure if John was even aware of the fact that was his injured arm. He figured the best approach would be to remind him of the fact. He didn't want any arguing to take place around Dean, he had been through enough and needed the peace and quiet to rest and heal.

John looked down at Dean as he was adjusting his head and eyes to look at his dad. "Aww, he's tougher than that, aren't you boy?" John pressed a little harder on the injury.

"Yes sir." Dean quickly answered as he suppressed a cry of pain that threatened to escape.

"That's my boy." John patted his shoulder again and gave Dean a grin. "Surgery's set for tomorrow. I think after a day or two of recovery you should be good to go."

"Dad!"

"John!"

Sam and Bobby both objected to John's words. There was no way either of them was going to let Dean leave before he was fully ready.

"Yes sir." Again, Dean didn't question his dad's words.

But, as he spoke, he looked over at Bobby, and the look he gave was one of uncertainty and fear. The expression was begging Bobby to help him. He wasn't completely sure what he needed help from, but he knew he needed it.

"John, there ain't no way in hell that he'll be ready to leave here that soon. Hell, the boy is barely even able to hold his eyes opened for long." Bobby didn't have a problem speaking his mind when it came to Dean.

"He's my son, damn it. And, if I say he goes, then he goes. If you don't want us returning to your house, that's fine, we won't. But, he ain't staying here after they close his head up."

"Dad!" Sam was never afraid to speak his mind either. "You can't possibly be serious! He almost died! He's still not completely out of the woods yet. Sure, he's doing a hell of a lot better, and is finally awake, but that doesn't mean his brain isn't going to start swelling again, or there won't be any complications during his healing."

"You know what?" John's tone changed to that of a sinister voice. "I think I changed my mind." He pressed his palm deep into Dean's shoulder.

Dean scrunched his face and tightened his jaw as he released a groan of pain from the pressure to his injury. He didn't try to stop him, or protest, but he did express the pain he was feeling, only causing John to press into him harder.

"Surgery is set for the morning. I say by evening we're out of here. Got it?" John continued. He looked down at Dean with the last part, making sure Dean understood what was expected of him.

"Yes sir." Dean groaned out.

"Good." John said as he released his pressure he was holding. "I'll see you tomorrow." He informed them as he walked from the room.

Dean released a sigh of relief when the painful pressure was finally gone. His injury still throbbed with pain, but the pressure was no longer holding tightly onto the pain he was feeling.

"Hey, you okay?" Sam was quickly by his brother's side.

"Yeah." Dean sighed, pushing away the need to express the pain he felt.

"You sure, boy?" Bobby questioned as he stood beside Sam.

"I…" The confusion, uncertainty set into his voice. "I just wanna sleep." It was both a confession and an escape.

He needed to escape from the emotions he was feeling. He wasn't sure how to deal with any of it. He wasn't completely sure what had just happened. He also needed to escape from the pain he was feeling. The fresh pain that was caused by the hands of his dad, again.

That was all he seemed to remember, and now he wasn't so sure there was anything else to his memories. Maybe there wasn't any good? Maybe it was only the bad he remembered?

"It'll be okay." Bobby spoke with gentle love. "You just sleep for now, I'll be here. I'll make sure you're safe. It will all be okay."


	70. Chapter 70

**CHAPTER 70**

Morning seemed to come way too early. Before they all knew it, Dean was being taken away for surgery. He had a rough night, a restless one, but the medication they had given him for surgery seemed to calm him enough that he would rest while under sedation.

"Bobby, do you think Dad was serious? When he said Dean's leaving tonight?"

"Yeah, unfortunately I do."

"Of course, Dean's going to follow his orders, like he always does."

"Don't be so hard on your brother. He doesn't have all his memories back yet. He's still got a lot of healing to do."

"Which is exactly why he needs to stay where he's at."

"Look, I'm not disagreeing. But, if your hard headed idjit dad takes your brother out of here, we're just gonna have to go along with it."

"Why?"

"Because, if we don't he'll take him to who the hell knows where, and if he's going anywhere to heal it's going to be right back to my house where I can keep an eye on him. And your dad."

"Keep an eye on Dad?"

"Yeah, kiddo. I don't know if you noticed or not but he ain't exactly acting like himself, even on a bad day. And, we are in a town that was full of demons, demons that your brother fought and I sent back to hell. Wouldn't surprise me any if one didn't try to get revenge for the others and attach themselves to someone."

"Yeah, I noticed. He would never hurt Dean like he did. I mean, sure he would, but not when he's already as injured as he is."

"Well, at least he ain't done anything to mess with his head. The kid doesn't need to know everything that's happened, not until he's ready."

"Yeah, I know."

Time ticked away slowly. Sam was restless, but refused to go anywhere, even though he couldn't seem to sit still. Finally, enough time had passed that the doctor came into the room to talk to them.

Everything went fine, he was in recovery. They were having problems getting him to wake up and respond to them, but that was of no surprise since they were already aware of the brain damage. The men both let out a sigh of relief. It had been one hell of a rollercoaster ride over the past few months.

Time continued to pass slowly, until Dean was finally brought back into the room. Bobby and Sam were finally able to relax now that they had Dean back in their sights.

"Hey, Dean. How you feeling?" Sam asked with quiet gentleness. He knew his brother would be exhausted and probably in pain.

"Hey, Sammy." Dean gave a half smile to his brother, matching the grogginess that was in his voice.

"You need anything? Some ice or something?"

Dean shook his head carefully, tightening his jaw with the pain that seemed to shift with the movement.

"Take, it easy." Bobby made his way in front of Dean so he wouldn't have to move his head to see him. "You need me to see about getting you something for pain?"

"I… I think I'm good." Dean's eyes were drifting somewhere between awake and asleep. "Where's Dad?"

"Don't know. Haven't seen him since last night." Bobby answered.

"Good." Dean replied, releasing the breath he was holding.

"He's planning on you leaving today."

"I know."

"You think you'll be able to do that?"

"Do I have a choice?"

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't. You know that as well as I do."

"Boy, no one's gonna take you out of here if you don't wanna go. I'll make damn sure of that."

"I'll be fine, Bobby. I can heal outside of this room just as well as I can in it."

"That's right." John's voice broke through their conversation, all three men looked at him in surprise. "You ready to get out of here?"

"Yes sir." Dean didn't even seem to hesitate with his answer, but he did grip tightly to his brother's hand that was resting on top of his.

"Good!" John tossed Dean some clothes. "Get dressed."

"Can…" Dean hesitated, gulping a deep swallow.

"What'cha need?" Bobby questioned.

"Can I get something for pain before we leave?"

His facial expression told Bobby that was Dean's biggest concern. He was afraid of the pain becoming too much. It was possibly already too much, but Dean wasn't one to let his feelings be known.

"Yeah." Bobby tossed Sam the clothes. "Put these somewhere out of sight." He instructed the youngest Winchester.

John appeared irritated as he waited for Bobby to get the nurse, then the nurse had to check the charts, then once it was clear he could get some more pain meds, it took even longer for her to gather them and administer it into his IV.

"Great! Now he's not going to be able to walk." John spit out in anger once the nurse was finally out of the room.

"You can't be serious!" Sam was clearly pissed. "He just had surgery, you can't possibly expect him to walk out of here."

"You can't be stupid enough to think he can just be wheeled out past the nurses!"

"Just stop, please." Dean requested with a drowsy innocence. He would do whatever his dad wanted as long as it kept them from fighting.

Sam and Bobby helped Dean get dressed and unhook the medical equipment and IVs. John was serious when he said Dean was walking out of there. It was a good thing the elevators were close. Dean nearly collapsed into himself once the doors closed. Bobby was there to catch him before he met the floor.

"John, you're a damn idjit! He ain't ready to leave, and you know it."

"Damn it Bobby! He's my damn kid and if I say he's ready then he's ready!"

"Ssstop." Dean's weak voice broke through their argument.

Dean gathered the last of his strength and nearly pushed his way past everyone once the doors opened. He couldn't do this. He needed to just get to where he was going. He didn't have the strength to keep this up. He didn't have the ability to concentrate on his own movements. He needed to escape. His mind seemed to swirl around him. His life was passing by in a daze of confusion.

He collapsed against the side of his baby. The warm metal was a comfort to his soul. Sam helped open the door and get Dean in the back seat, placing a blanket from the trunk against the door for his head to rest on. Dean needed all the comfort he could get right now.

"Give me the keys, I'll drive." Sam announced, holding his hand out for the keys.

"Like hell you will!" John shot back.

Sam, obviously angered, quickly sat in the front passenger seat.

"You can ride with Bobby."

"Like hell! I'm not leaving Dean!"

"Let Sam ride with his brother." Bobby intervened, knowing he didn't need to be alone with Dean.

"Whatever." John sighed. "Lets just get the hell out of here!"

Bobby waited until John pulled out and then he got in behind him. He wasn't going to let that car out of his sight. He needed to make sure his boys were okay. And, right now was not the time to argue about it. He needed to get them to his house, where they would be safe, then he could deal with John.

Dean dozed in and out in the backseat. He could faintly hear his dad and brother arguing in the front. It wasn't until the car took a quick swerve to the shoulder and back that Dean opened his eyes and started paying closer attention to the men in front of him. Bobby laid on his horn, reminding John he was behind him.

"You're going to Bobby's! Or, you can just stop the damn car and let me and Dean out."

"You're my sons and you'll do as I say!" John had reached over and smacked Sam across the face.

"Don't you dare touch me! I'm not Dean and I'll be damn if I allow you to beat on me the way you do him!"

"Dddd… Don't" Dean barely whispered from the backseat. It was enough he caught Sam's attention but not John's

Sam gave a quick glance back at Dean but didn't lose his concentration on his dad.

Anger boiled inside of Dean. The longer John yelled the more anger built. It built inside of a body that couldn't react to it. The only thing Dean could do is lay and watch. John had reached over and grabbed Sam by his throat, pushing his body against the passenger door. He clearly wasn't paying attention to the road he was driving on.

Dean's eyes widened, fear filled the spaces where anger hadn't taken over. He noticed Sam's cell phone had slipped from the front and landed on the back floor. He reached down and opened it, dialing Bobby's number.

"Bobby."

It came out more as a weakened puff of air, but it was all the man needed. He sped up past the impala, he got far enough ahead then spun his truck around so he was blocking the entire road.

"Dad!" Dean had mustered up enough strength to yell loud enough John could hear him.

He quickly slammed the breaks, causing everyone in the car to fly forward with the force. The impala came to a stop inches from the side of Bobby's truck. Not that Bobby seemed to care about that since he was already out of his truck and heading toward the passenger side of the car.

He tore Sam's door open, pulling him from his dad's grip. The words were already coming out of his mouth the moment he had the door open. He flung Sam to the ground behind him, he was more concerned about the boys' safety than with being gentle. He quickly glanced in the backseat, making sure Dean wasn't injured.

Sam quickly recovered and managed to get oxygen into his starved lungs. He sat up, watching the scene before him. John threw his head back with the last few words that exited Bobby's mouth, and the car filled with black smoke that exited through the open door and every small crack that was available.

John collapsed in the seat, unconscious. Bobby reached in and checked to make sure his friend was still alive.

"Dad?" Dean's weakened voice couldn't manage to come up with more than one word at a time.

"He's alright, boy. He's just unconscious."

"He was possessed." Sam stated, a bit shocked, but then again it was partly expected.

"Help me get him in my truck." Bobby requested of Sam.

He didn't hesitate. He did as he was asked. Once they had John settled in the passenger seat they returned to the car.

"You okay, boy?" Bobby asked Dean.

He just nodded, unable to fully answer, his emotions were still running high and the pain meds were wearing off, giving him the full effects of the surgery, he encountered just hours ago.

"Okay, good. Sam's gonna drive you two back to my place. I'll have your daddy; don't you worry about him."

Dean blinked, showing that he heard him and understood. Bobby patted his leg gently.

"Hang in there."

Dean closed his eyes, which were only half open to begin with. Sam slipped into the driver seat, glancing back at his brother. He waited for Bobby to start on his way and Sam quickly followed. He wasn't going to let his dad act out again without being there to help Bobby the way he had helped them.

Dean seemed to calm and rest comfortably in the familiar leather seat of his baby, with the calming roar of the motor and his brother behind the wheel. That didn't stop Sam from constantly glancing in the rearview mirror to check on him. He could tell he was in pain and having nightmares of some type, but it didn't seem to be severe enough for him to pull over or wake him.

There were moment Dean would wake, with partly slit open eyes he would watch his little brother take control of his car. He would listen to the calming tone of his brother's voice, he wasn't always sure what he was saying, but the sound was comforting enough.

Sam's mind overworked itself while he drove. His head hurt from being slammed against the window, his throat burned from his dad's hand choking him. His face stung from being hit. He wondered how often his brother had felt the same feelings. The same sensations caused by the hands of the one person who was supposed to protect them, keep them safe from things like that.

Sam wasn't stupid and he sure as hell wasn't a child anymore. He knew the life they lived. He knew the things their dad had seen had changed him. He knew it had all changed him and Dean as well. He knew the dangers this life held for them, but it still didn't make it right. It didn't make it fair. Just once he wanted to see Dean, and himself, catch a break in life.

He had it, once. He had the perfect break. He was exactly where he always wanted to be, in college. He was living a normal life and had real friends. He even had a girl he could imagine spending the rest of his life with. But, then Dean came, and Jess left in a fire, the same way mom had left, and… and his break was over. He was back into this world he tried so hard to get away from. The dangers all too real.

It was dark when they pulled into Bobby's. Hours had passed and the day had turned to night, threatening to turn into day again. Sam stretched his aching, tired body when he stood from his seat.

"Help me get your brother inside." Bobby demanded as he walked toward Sam. Both of them equally as worn out.

"What about Dad?"

"He'll be fine. We'll get Dean inside first, then come back for that idjit."

"What if he wakes?"

"Don't matter, got him tied up."

Sam chuckled, amused that Bobby took the chance to tie John up, knowing the rage he would have if he woke.

They carefully slid Dean from the seat. He moaned and groaned but barely seemed to acknowledge what was going on. Carefully they each wrapped his arm around their shoulders and lifted a leg, carrying him inside and placing him on the couch.

After making sure he was comfortable for the moment they returned to Bobby's truck.

"Wake the hell up!" Bobby scolded with a slap to the side of John's face.

He startled awake, taking a moment to realize he was tied and unable to move.

"What the hell Singer?"

"Gotta make sure you're yourself and didn't carry anyone back with you."

"I'm me, okay? Damn."

"You sure? Cause you sure as hell wasn't when you pulled Dean outta the hospital, or decided to put your hands on Sam."

"Yeah, well, I'm me now, so you can untie me."

"Christo!"

"See! Damn it! Quit splashing damn water on me."

"Alright, I'll untie you, but if you put your hands on either one of your boys I'll put you in the ground, you got it?"

"Yeah, whatever Singer, just get these damn ropes off me!"

Bobby untied John as Sam stood in the background making sure he didn't start acting up. Everything seemed to be fine. He was acting like himself again as they walked into the house.

"Damn, he looks like hell!" John noted as he noticed his oldest son on the couch.

"You think?" Bobby's tone held sarcasm mixed with annoyance.

John started making his way toward the couch and Sam stood in his way. "He's fine."

"I'm not going to do anything to him."

"I don't care. I said he's fine right now. I'd suggest you go upstairs and sleep right now, leave us alone."

John rolled his eyes. "Damn it, Sammy! No matter what the hell you think, you're not the damn boss of me or your brother. I'm the dad and I'm the boss, you got it?"

"Like hell you are! You're nothing right now!"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're not the damn boss of me or my dad right now. You're not Dean's boss either! He doesn't need to be here. He needs to be in the hospital where he was at, but your fatherly bossiness took him from the care he needs."

"Stop." Dean's voice barely broke above the yelling his dad and brother were doing.

"Dean!" Sam turned his attention to his brother.

"Sssstop…" Dean's lips moved without the words coming out. He tried but couldn't seem to finish what he was saying.

"Okay, sorry." Sam knelt on the floor next to Dean. "How you feeling?"

Dean looked at Sam, unable to figure out the words to use. He blinked a couple times and thought. "Hhhh…" he paused after the one letter sound… He couldn't figure out the word he wanted to use, or how to say it.

"You hurting?"

Dean nodded.

"Where?"

Dean looked at Sam confused. His forehead crinkled in the middle. His jaw was locked tight as he closed his eyes tightly.

Sam looked up at Bobby, equally confused.

"I think he's just having trouble getting his brain to figure out the words he wants to use. I'm sure it'll pass with time." Bobby stood behind Sam and placed his hand on his shoulder for comfort.

"Dean! Answer your brother, where are you hurting?" John's demanding voice opened Dean's eyes.

"I…. I" Dean's mouth moved but that was the only thing that seemed to come out.

John stepped forward and Bobby stepped between him and Dean.

"Don't you lay a hand on him!"

"Damn, Bobby just because I walk toward my son you assume I'm going to do something to him?"

"Ain't like you got a good track record going on right now."

John rolled his eyes. "You just dumb now or what?" His question was directed at his oldest son.

"Dad!" Sam hated hearing his dad talk to his brother that way. "In case you forgot, he just had damn brain surgery. Not that you care or anything, but he's gonna need a little time to get his brain working right again."

"Figured that knock on the head would finally knock some sense into him, guess I was wrong." John snorted as he glared at Dean.

At that moment, Dean had never wished so hard that he could just shrink away. He wished he hadn't made the decision to come back from the darkness, from his mom. He felt so confused about everything. He didn't know why he couldn't form words. They were there, in his head, for some reason he couldn't seem to get them from his head to his lips. They were as trapped as he felt.

He couldn't get himself pulled back together. He felt broken. Not just internally but physically too. He knew he wasn't himself, that he should be able to speak and think properly, but he couldn't seem to remember how to be the person he was. He wasn't even sure if he knew who that was anymore. And, something told him it wasn't just the head injury that made him feel that way.

"Dean?" Bobby's voice broke through his thoughts. "It's okay." His hand fell softly on Dean's shoulder.

He hadn't realized his body was shaking. He hadn't realized the tears were falling. He hadn't realized he curled himself into a fetal position on the couch. He hadn't realized his breathing increased. He hadn't realized his heart was racing. He hadn't realized the fear that was trembling inside of him.

The fear of the situation taking place in front of him. The fear of not being able to communicate properly. The fear of not being himself. The fear of not knowing who he was. The fear of not knowing how to fix any of it.

His head hurt. He just wanted the person who was slamming a hammer against his skull to stop. He just wanted the ringing that filled his ears to quiet down. He wanted someone to make it all go away. He wanted everyone around him to stop yelling and fighting. He wanted the lights to be turned off.

"Ssss'mmmy" Dean stumbled over his brother's name.

"Yeah, Dean? What'cha need?"

"Hhhhh'rrts."

"Yeah, I know. Can you tell me where you hurt? Is it your head?"

Dean nodded. "Mmmm…. Mmake thhhhem sssss… sttttt…. Ttttooo llloud."

"Guys." Sam turned his attention to the other men in the room. "Can you take your damn fighting somewhere else? That's the last thing Dean needs right now." He looked down at Dean then back at Bobby. "Either that or help me get him upstairs."

"Think it's best that he stays down here where we can keep an eye on him."

Sam nodded. "What you got for pain?"

"Doubt I got anything that'll take care of what he's feeling, but I'll look and see."

"Dad." Sam changed his attention and tone. "I think it's best you go upstairs for the rest of the night, we'll take care of Dean."

"Sam…"

"Dad!" Sam stood and spoke with authority, not giving his dad the chance to argue.

John turned and made his way upstairs without another word.

"Hey, Dean." Sam made his way back to his brother's side. "Hang in there, man, it's going to be okay."

Dean moaned as he tried to bury his eyes into the darkness of the couch beneath him.

"Lights too bright?"

Dean nodded his head slowly. Sam turned down the lights, leaving just enough that they could still see but it wasn't bright. Bobby returned with a look of regret.

"Got these, but they ain't gonna help as much as he needs." He handed them to Sam and retrieved a cup of water.

"Yeah, well, nothing short of the hospital is going to be able to give him what he really needs."

Bobby shook his head in disbelief as Sam helped Dean take the pills. He wasn't sure what was going on with his oldest friend upstairs. At first, he figured it was a possession, after watching the black smoke pour from him it was clear that was the reason Dean was pulled from the hospital to suffer. But, now he didn't have that excuse, but he still seemed to be hateful and wanting to cause more suffering to his oldest son.

Bobby's house was warded off. He had demon traps and spells that were in place. There was no way John Winchester would be able to make it around the house if he was possessed. Bobby wished that was the case, but it wasn't.

He couldn't concentrate on that right now. Perhaps John was just overly exhausted and needed to rest. It could really be as simple as that. He directed his attention back toward the two in front of him.

Dean still laid in a fetal position on his side, his body trembling and shivering. His jaw was locked tight but still quivering. His fist had turned white from the tight grip he held on the side of the couch cushion. Small whimpers of pain and discomfort escaped his lips quietly.

Sam sat on the floor beside him, one hand rubbing his back gently, the other hand holding onto his tight grip. Exhaustion was clearly setting in. No matter how much pain Dean seamed to be in, his body's need for rest was overriding what he felt as he slipped into the comfort of the familiar home he was in. The darkness that was slowly surrounding him seemed to carry him away from everything he knew as he drifted into a sea of calmness and his body relaxed, loosening his tight grips on the only things that he could find to keep his life grounded.


	71. Chapter 71

**CHAPTER 71**

From the view of a fly on the wall the room looked calm. The morning sun peaked through the windows, allowing the dust to dance in it's rays. Everything was still and silent. Bobby stretched out in the chair, his feet comfortably placed on the coffee table in front of him. His head tilted to the side, his hand resting under his head against the side of the chair.

Sam sat on the floor beside the couch. His arms were crossed on the edge, his head cradled in the crook of his arm. His face covered by his arms. Dean laid half on his side and half on his back, his hand rested comfortably on Sam's arm, his other arm rested across his chest, giving his injured shoulder the support, it needed.

If you listened close enough you could hear the soft breathing of the men who slept in the calmness. If you looked onto the scene as a stranger you would think the three men where calm and well off. You would think they were too exhausted, perhaps from partying too much, to make their way to their beds and just slept where they were at.

But, that wasn't the case, not even close. Bobby had stayed awake, watching as Sam's body gave into the exhaustion and passed out before he himself did the same. Dean's sleep was restless and soft moans and cries of pain escaped as he slept. It wasn't until his body had given into the complete, overwhelming exhaustion that the cries silenced and his movements ceased.

No one's dreams were settling. They all three had thoughts of their own running wild through their heads. Fears and uncertainties of the upcoming days ahead. Bobby worried, like a father. He worried how he would be able to make sure both boys were taken care of. He knew Sam would push himself to make sure Dean was okay, so it would be important for Bobby to take care of Sam. But, he also had to care for Dean. He didn't know how, he wasn't sure if there was anything he could do. He knew he was in pain and nothing he had would stop it.

Dean had looked up to Bobby. He was the one that Dean had left the note for. The only one that Dean felt could slightly understand him, and who would completely care. At the time, his mind was twisted and confused. Now, it seemed to be even worse. In a way, Bobby wished his brain injury was worse. He wished that Dean could be given the gift of not remembering anything. He could start over new. He could be given the chances he never got.

But, he was a Winchester, and Winchesters never had it that easily. Instead, the only things he could remember were the bad things. He wasn't even left with the ability to remember a single good thing in his life. He couldn't imagine the hell that brought to the boy's mind.

Sam had reached his limit. It seemed like he couldn't handle much more. He had reacted in ways that shocked everyone, including himself. He had stood up to his dad. He had even threatened him. He was pushed too far and was at the point of completely snapping. He knew Dean couldn't help anything that had happened, but it seemed there was always one thing after another. Yes, the first incident he could say was at least partly his own fault, but the others were because Dean chose to leave. He chose to take matters into his own hands, for reasons Sam could never understand.

He knew Dean didn't plan for things to go the way they did, that was just the luck he always seemed to have. But, Sam couldn't take anymore. And, now here they were again. At Bobby's. Dean suffering in pain that no one would be able to control. Bobby trying to take care of everyone. John being an ass. Everything was exactly the same way it had been for far too long. Sam felt like screaming. He felt like he was going to have a complete meltdown if only one more thing went wrong.

Dean had already passed the point Sam was at, that was the reason he had left in the first place. Not that he actually remembered any of that right now. The only thing he was certain of was that he was confused and in pain. That, and the fact he was scared, but something inside of him told him he wasn't supposed to show fear or feel it. So, he didn't. or at least he tried not to. It seeped from his eyes, but he tried his hardest to push it down to where he wouldn't act upon it.

He wasn't even sure what he was fearful of. He knew his dad scared him, but he didn't know why because everything inside of him screamed he was supposed to love him. Everything screamed he was supposed to be someone who was safe. But, somehow, he couldn't get himself to believe that. He couldn't get himself to feel the way he thought he should. The fact that his dad's actions showed exactly what he felt didn't help matters any.

Then there was the pain, the unbearable pain. His head pounded like someone kept hitting it with a sledge hammer. The ringing in his ears kept his mind from concentrating properly. The confusion had him jumbled up and unable to form the words or actions he tried so desperately to express.

He hated crying, hated showing signs of pain. He didn't know why, couldn't remember why that was such a bad thing, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. It was one of the few things he was able to express without struggle.

A whimper escaped into the silence as Dean started curling his body into itself. He was far from awake, far from being aware of the actions his body was taking. The hand that was laying on his brother's arm tightened its grip as his respirations seemed to double immediately. The pounding in his head increased as the sweat poured from his face and soaked his hair.

His muscles trembled with exhaustion as they tightened throughout his body. His jaw locked tight. His eyes even tighter. Another whimper and small cry of discomfort and pain as his body shuttered.

"Dean? Hey! Dean, wake up man." Sam woke with his brother's sudden change in behavior. He tried to give him a gentle shake, tried to pry his tightening hand off his arm, tried to speak to him to arouse his mind. But, nothing seemed to work. He was lost inside of his own head, inside of his own nightmare.

Bobby woke with Sam's attempts to wake Dean. Both men were beyond exhausted, neither of them ready to face the day, but weren't given a choice. Bobby retrieved a cool, damp rag and wiped Dean's face down, then placed it on his forehead, to cool his skin. He had a fever, there was no doubt about that. His entire body felt like it was on fire, but he shook as if he was freezing.

A tear leaked from the corner of his tightly closed eyes and ran down the side of his cheek. Only more evidence of how bad he felt, both physically and mentally.

Both men tried to wake him, without success. So, once again, they tried to make him as comfortable as they could and settled back into their spots. If they couldn't get him to respond they knew that only meant one thing, they needed to try to get rest while they could because once he woke he would need their full attention. It was a fine balancing act, and they all needed to make sure no one slipped off the wire and tumbled to the ground beneath them.

 _It was already dark outside, the sun had sunk away and left nothing but the light of the moon and few stars in its place. He didn't know what was going on. He wasn't even sure exactly where he was at, or who was with him._

 _The first slam to the side of his head caught him off guard and he stumbled to the ground with nothing around to stop his fall. He felt dazed. There were voices around him, but he was certain they weren't human. He tried to look, tried to see where the voices came from, but when he lifted his head and opened his eyes he was met with a hard force that finished pushing his body to the ground and slammed his head against the concrete beneath him._

 _He felt hands. There were lots of hands. Touching him. People touching him._

 _Where did the hard ground go? How did he end up in this room? Where did the bed come from? The hands, they were still there, still touching him. They grabbed him and slammed their fists against him._

 _The next punch he recognized. He would always know his dad's hands when they slammed against him. Only… he wasn't sure he was himself anymore. Perhaps he was, just younger? He couldn't be certain. But, he knew that was Sam sitting at the table. He would know his little brother at any age._

 _He had a look of guilt on his face and tears that ran down his cheeks. Dean couldn't understand why his brother looked so sad, then another punch from the fists he knew all too well. He was slammed against the wall behind him._

 _His dad was screaming at him, but he couldn't understand the words he was saying. But, he knew that tone. He was in trouble for something, again. And, judging by the look on Sam's face, he was in trouble for something Sam did but he took the blame for. That wasn't anything new, he had gotten used to that. There was no way he would ever allow his dad to take his rage out on Sam the way he does him._

 _Then, he was being choked, his own dad's hands wrapped around his throat. Only, somehow it wasn't him anymore. He was laying in the backseat of his baby, watching his dad choke his brother. He was holding him against the door and the only thing Dean could do was watch helplessly._

 _From somewhere he managed to gather the strength to stop him, but when he pushed him away, the surroundings had changed again. He must have been a teenager now, and he stood between his dad and brother. He had just shoved his dad away and told Sam to go, hide, leave the room._

 _He didn't try to fight back, he never did. It would only make his punishments worse. His dad's fists felt like they were bricks slamming into him by the time he had finished. He was left laying in a fetal position on the floor, blood and pain pouring from him. When he opened his eyes, he wasn't the same kid, or in the same place._

 _He was laying on spikes of gravel. His throat raw. He spit blood every time he coughed or choked. His body trembled with exhaustion. Again, the hands, they were back. His head was pulled from the ground by the grip on his hair, his body followed. His face was lowered down into some man's crotch. His too sore throat was stretched open again. He barely had the strength to move his head or hold himself up._

 _The hands. Where did they keep coming from? Why did they keep touching him?_

 _He wanted to scream but couldn't, he wasn't sure why he couldn't, but there was something stopping his screams from escaping his lips. The burning sensation was too much. He had been here before. He wasn't a kid anymore, he was laying back on the hard, unforgiving concrete. He was surrounded by people, people who weren't people._

 _The burning tore inside of him with the forced intrusion. He wasn't sure what was going on, he knows he's felt this before, but it never burned so much. It was like acid being poured inside of him, and whatever contained the acid was tearing him open as it entered his body. This wasn't the way it was supposed to be. This was wrong. It was all so wrong, but he couldn't stop it. He couldn't fight it._

 _The hands, they were too strong. The voices, they wouldn't stop. He couldn't understand them. He couldn't respond to them. But, they kept making noises. All he wanted was for the burning to stop and the voices to silence. It was all causing his head to feel like it was going to explode. Or, maybe it already had? It kind of felt like it had._

 _He couldn't let them win. He couldn't let the pain and torture take control over him. Then, he saw it. He saw two yellow eyes floating in front of him. He couldn't see the body, or face that held them, but he saw the eyes in the darkened space before him and fear filled every inch of his body._

 _His thoughts raced. He held his baby brother as the smell of smoke and burning flesh assaulted his nostrils. He saw his life, flash in images of sadness and fear. He saw himself, alone with Sammy. John no where around. He saw himself taking care of the run-down places they stayed and making sure Sam had everything he needed._

 _He saw himself, laying in bed, arms wrapped around his stomach because he was starving so badly. He was too tired, too weak, to move. Sam slept on the bed beside him, his stomach was full, he was taken care of, and that's all that mattered._

 _He saw himself do everything to make his brother's life a good one. He kept the hands from touching him. He couldn't understand why he kept feeling the hands all over his body. No matter where his mind went it always came back to the hands._

Dean's head tossed from side to side. His body clenched even tighter than before. Moans and groans assaulted the silence in the room, followed by pleading "no's" and "stops".

Sam shook his brother, his hands grasping onto his good shoulder and the chest of his shirt.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted his name, trying to wake him.

Sam and Bobby had both managed to doze off again until Dean's cries and pleads woke them. His nightmare had reached its peak. They needed to wake him before it became too severe.

Sam wrapped his hand around the back of Dean's neck and grabbed his arm with his other hand, giving him a tight hold and shake while calling his name.

Dean's eyes shot open, his body tore itself out of Sam's grip as he quickly shot into a seated position. It wasn't until he had already reacted that the pain seemed to catch up to him.

"Dean!" Sam gasped in shock as he grabbed a hold of his brother, knowing he wasn't going to be able to hold himself up.

Dean seemed to be breathing as fast as his body would allow. His eyes quickly darted around the room, unsure of where he was at. He had tried to pull from Sam's grip but was too weak to succeed.

"Ppppplease…ddddon't hhhhurt me." Dean stuttered out the begging plead.

"Dean, it's me, Sam. I'm not going to hurt you. It was just a dream. Okay? You're okay. We're at Bobby's. No one is going to hurt you."

Dean's eyes darted to Sam's face but he couldn't seem to bring him into focus, so he continued to shoot his eyes around the room, looking for dangers, trying to find safety, unsure of the reason there were hands touching him, again, still.

"Hey, Dean. It's okay." Bobby spoke as he stood and made his way to Dean's side.

His eyes darted to Bobby when he spoke. Again, he couldn't seem to focus on who was around him. He took several rapid blinks, hoping that would help. It didn't. His eyes looked as if they were trembling inside of his head. They were rapidly shaking back and forth, almost so quickly you couldn't see it.

Bobby sat beside Dean, his voice calm, not letting anyone know how concerned he was. "Dean, I need you to listen to me. Can you do that?"

Dean tried to look at the area the voice came from but panic built as he couldn't seem to see what he was looking for.

"I need you to trust me, okay?" Bobby continued. "I need you to close your eyes. I'm going to place my hand over your eyes for just a moment, okay? I'm going to close them, don't be scared."

Bobby's movements followed the words he spoke, informing Dean of everything he was going to do before he did it.

"Okay, that's good." Bobby removed his hand and Dean's eyes remained closed. "Just let your body relax. Let your mind relax. It's going to be okay. I promise. But I need for you to trust me."

Dean's breathing started to slow.

"That's it, just listen to my voice. You're okay. It's just me and your brother here right now. No one is going to hurt you. It was just a dream. You had a really bad dream, that's all. No matter what it was, it's not happening right now, it's over. Right now, you're safe."

Dean's body seemed to start relaxing with the decrease in his breathing. His shaking body had turned to trembles and he wasn't fighting against his brother's touch. He slid his body toward Bobby until his forehead rested on him and his face was buried in his chest.

He released a long drawn out cry of pain as he wrapped his uninjured arm around Bobby's waist and grabbed a fistful of his shirt.

"Shhhh. It's okay, son, it's okay." Bobby rubbed his hand gently in circles on Dean's back while calming him.

"He's not your son!" John's voice broke the serenity they had all three found some comfort in.

"I didn't mean it like that, and you know it." Bobby defended himself.

"Dad." Sam's tone was more of a warning than a greeting.

"How's he doing?" John ignored his youngest son's warning and made his way to where they sat on the couch.

"He'd be doing better if he was in the hospital." Bobby answered sarcastically.

John sighed as he sat in the nearby chair. "Yeah, well it's going to be one hell of a job coming up with a story to get him back where he needs to be."

"No, it won't." Sam couldn't help but disagree with his dad, he always felt like his dad was never right, and this time was no different.

"How do you figure that?" John entertained his son's thoughts.

"We just drop him off, like outside the door or something. Let the nurses come out to him. He just tells them he doesn't remember anything. Doesn't know how he got there. They admit him and eventually when he's able to talk he gives them one of our numbers to call."

"And you think its just going to be that easy?"

"Yeah, I do."

"You don't think they will track it all down and figure things out?"

"Not if we make sure all his info on him is in a different name."

"Sam, I thought you were some smart college kid! Do you seriously think that last hospital didn't put out some all points bulletin when their critically injured patient went missing?"

"Not across state lines."

"I bet every hospital in the country has a picture of him right now."

Sam shook his head. "It's worth a shot."

"A shot at going to jail? Don't forget, you were there too, this isn't just on me, it's on all three of us."

"Then what the hell are we supposed to do?"

"How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"You're the one who insisted he leave the hospital!"

"I was possessed! In case you forgot!"

"Stop!" Dean's voice was broken and quiet but it was enough to make both men hold their tongues.

They hadn't realized they were yelling at each other, and with Dean's head already pounding that wasn't doing anything to make it feel better. He hated when his brother and dad fought. They always seemed to disagree on everything.

"Guys, cool it will you?" Bobby added once they had stopped their arguing.

"Sorry."

Sam was quick to apologize, to make sure his brother was okay. John, not so quick. He actually didn't say another word for the time being, which was just fine with all of them.

"Nnnnn…. Nnnoooo… nnnnnnooo hhhhhooss…" Dean paused, he was trying to form the words but they didn't seem to want to come out. He was too exhausted, too weak to pull his face from Bobby, his stuttering came out muffled. "Nnnnnoooo dddddd…. Ddddooooc…"

"No doctors?" Sam asked.

Dean nodded his head slightly.

"You don't want to go back to the hospital?" He questioned again, trying to fill in the words his brother was trying to say.

Dean shook his head and tightened his grip around Bobby.

"Okay." Bobby replied. "No one is going to make you do anything you don't want to. You got that?" Everyone in the room knew he had his fair share of being forced into things he had no control over. "That's all over. You don't need to worry about that anymore. Okay?"

Dean groaned and tightened his grip even more.

Bobby wrapped his arms tightly around Dean. "It's okay, Dean. It's going to be okay. You'll see, it will all be okay."


	72. Chapter 72

**CHAPTER 72**

The days seemed to drag by, slowly and painfully. Everyone had reach their limits and then some. Exhaustion weighed heavy in the air. Tempers ran short, fuses even shorter. The tension was so thick you could cut through the air with a knife.

Everyone spoke as little as needed, trying to keep the fighting to a minimum. Dean had barely moved and hadn't ate anything since they arrived at Bobby's he barely even drank, only when he had pills to take.

Bobby knew some people who worked in a vet's office. They managed to sneak him some pain medication. It was for dogs, but Bobby figured it was better than sitting around watching Dean suffer. It was some powerful stuff that kept him knocked out most of the time. It just didn't seem to last long enough.

When he was heavy on the pain meds and unconscious he seemed to rest, but once the meds started to wear off, the nightmares would start again. No one knew what his dreams were about, he didn't speak much when he was awake. Not that he would talk about them even if he was speaking.

"Hey, Dean, it's time you tried to eat something."

Dean had been laying awake on the couch for around half an hour, quietly watching the activities in the room around him. Bobby had made him some broth soup and a glass of ice water. He knew Dean needed to start eating or he would soon find himself in a worse condition than he was already in.

Dean's eyes shifted to Bobby, who stood in front of him, bowl and glass in hand. Dean slowly closed his eyes then reopened them. He had no interest in what Bobby had to offer, but he also knew he didn't have much of a choice. He knew Bobby had his best interest at heart so there was no reason to fight against him.

Sam helped Bobby adjust Dean so he was leaning against a stack of pillows they put behind his back, leaving him at an angle. He slowly sipped at the broth Bobby offered him. At first, he choked on it then managed to remember how to swallow properly over the next few sips.

His stomach flipped, his head spun with this new sensation. His eyes drifted open and closed before he was half way done.

"Dean, I need you to keep your eyes open for me. You need to finish this. Gotta get some food and fluids down you."

He opened his eyes and stared at Bobby as he accepted the offering Bobby was giving him.

"How you feeling?"

Dean just looked at him, not answering his question.

"Gonna need you to try and talk to me."

"Sssss… g… g… gonna bbe sssiiick."

"Sam, get me the trash can."

Sam quickly done as asked.

"Alright, I need you to try to finish this without getting sick. Got it?"

Dean slowly nodded.

"I know it probably feels like a lot on your stomach, but it's been far too long since you've put anything in your stomach. You're not going to get any better without nutrients."

Dean swallowed hard, trying to keep the nausea down.

"That's it, you're doing good."

Dean hated when Bobby would show up with his offerings of fluids and nutrients. But, with each passing day Dean's strength grew and through the nightmares his memories started returning. Not that they were good memories, but memories none the less. He knew there was still more to life, more to his life, but he figured with time he would remember the parts he had forgotten.

His biggest problem seemed to be the fact he still couldn't get his brain and mouth to work together and form words properly. When he was able to say what he was wanting to it usually came out stuttered and broken.

"What, are you a retard now?"

"You sound like a baby learning how to talk."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You're a grown ass man, time you started acting and sounding like one again."

"You're going to be the laughing stock of the hunter's community if anyone sees you."

"I bet the demons are laughing it up now that they went and made you dumb."

These words were spoken to Dean when there was no one else around to hear. If Bobby knew they were being said to him, he wouldn't stand for it. But, Dean didn't say anything about it, he just listened and half heartedly agreed. He opted not to speak at all unless absolutely necessary, he'd rather be seen as a mute than a retard, at least then his dad would have less to be disappointed about.

Dean was up and moving, slowly, but at least he was able to maneuver to the bathroom and around the lower floor of the house by himself. He hadn't been able to master the stairs, they seemed to wear him out too much, he was still weak and trying to get his body to fully cooperate with his brain. He never imagined he would find himself in this situation in his life. It was much harder, both physically and mentally, than he could have ever imagined.

Bobby sat at his desk, working on some side jobs for hunters, doing some research. The house was quiet. John had went to town for supplies and Sam was somewhere reading a book or doing whatever Sam does. Dean carefully and quietly made his way to Bobby's desk. The old man raised his eyes to watch the younger man sit in the seat across from him.

"How you feeling?"

Dean just shrugged his shoulders.

Bobby sat down the pen in his hand, crossed his arms over each other leaving them resting on the desk and picked his head up so he was giving Dean his full attention. Dean may not have said anything, but his face told a whole different story. His face, his deep green eyes, said he had a lot to say. But, there was fear there too, fear of speaking, or possibly fear of saying what he needed to say.

Bobby sat patiently, sizing Dean up, waiting for him to say what he wanted. When Dean lowered his head and didn't speak, Bobby filled the silence.

"You look like you got a lot on your mind."

Again, Dean just shrugged his shoulders.

"And, like there's something you wanna say."

Dean picked his head up and looked at Bobby. The longer he stared the sadder Dean's eyes grew.

"What's eating at you?"

Dean closed his eyes for an extra long blink then opened them as he drew in a deep breath. "Aaaa… aaam I ddd… ddumb now?"

"What? What the hell makes you ask a thing like that?"

Dean shrugged.

"Your daddy tell you that?"

Another shrug.

"Why would you think you're dumb?"

"Bbbbecausse iii cccan't talk rrr… rrright."

"Dean. You can't talk right because your brain suffered from a serious injury and it needs time to heal. You'll get it back, the same way everything else is coming back to you. Hell, it's not like your brain has quit working. Everything up there is still there. It's just going to take some time to get all your wires straightened back out. But that does NOT make you dumb. You hear me?"

Dean nodded his head slowly, trying to take in what Bobby was saying.

"What else he been telling you?"

"Ddddoesn't mmmatter."

"Yes, it does."

Dean shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Iiii… I dddon't mmatter."

"Like hell you don't boy! If you didn't matter I sure as hell wouldn't be spending my time taking care of you and making sure you're healing up and staying healthy. I don't give a hell what that idjit father of yours has said, you're not dumb or anything thing else and you're worth every ounce of time and energy I've poured into you, you got that boy?"

"Yyyyes sir."

"Dean, listen to me. You've always been like a son to me. I've always cared about you as if you've been my own. You remember that?"

Dean nodded his head.

"Good. And, I know you've felt the same way about me, that's why I'm the one you left the letter for when you left. That's the reason you seem to always come to me when you're in real need of help or advise. You don't go to your dad or anyone else, you come to me."

Dean stared at him, trying to remember the parts of his life Bobby was talking about.

"You remember anything about when you left?"

Dean shook his head.

Bobby handed him the letter he had wrote him. "This is what you left me."

Dean accepted it and started reading. Bobby went back to the work he was doing, keeping a close eye on the boy in front of him, but not seeming to hoover over him.

"Bbbobby." Dean stuttered out once he finished reading it.

"Yeah?"

"Iiii'm ttttired. Ccccan yyyou help mme ggg…ggggg…" His stuttering got worse the more nervous he seemed to get.

"Hey, calm down. It's okay. What ever you got to say, it's okay."

Dean nodded and took a deep breath. "Wwwill yyou help mmme go upstairs ssssooo I can sssllleeepp?"

"Yeah. Sure, you tire of that old couch?"

Dean nodded. "Ttto loud."

Bobby chuckled, "yeah, there is a lot of noise and commotion. How about we get you something to eat first, that way we won't have to worry about it later and you can sleep in the dark silence. Sound good?"

Dean nodded with a slight grin.

He followed Bobby to the kitchen and sat in one of the chairs at the table. He was still weak and frail, but he was trying. He had managed to move around the house on his own and, for the most part, feed himself without any problems.

Bobby sat two bowls of soup on the table and sat near Dean, he figured he would feel more comfortable if they ate together.

Dean sat in silence while he slurped around on the soup, still seeming like he had a lot on his mind.

"What's bugging you?" Bobby asked as he watched Dean.

Dean just shrugged. He really wasn't into talking about feelings and memories, but sometimes they just seemed to bother him more than other times.

Bobby just nodded with a slight grin, understanding by Dean's behavior and body language, that he wasn't ready to talk about things, not here, not right now.

They finished, together, in silence, then Bobby helped support Dean as he walked up the stairs. He was worn out by the time he reached the top but figured it would do him some good to get the exercise his body used to be used to.

"You wanna get you a change of clothes and shower what time you're up here?"

Dean nodded

Bobby stayed by his side, making sure he knew he was safe and he wouldn't let him fall. Once he was settled in the bathroom, ready to shower, Bobby left him alone, making sure he knew he would be right outside the door if he needed anything.

Dean's body shook slightly as he stood under the running water. He had so many thoughts and memories running through his head, he wasn't sure how to separate them from each other, how to deal with it all. He allowed the tears to slip from his eyes, knowing the water would wash away their evidence.

He couldn't seem to close his eyes anymore without the fear. He couldn't feel pain without memories of worse pain coming to mind. He could no longer look at anyone without memories getting jumbled in his head. Mostly the bad ones would take over, but he knew there were good ones in there too, he just couldn't seem to separate them.

He couldn't seem to get his brain to separate anything anymore. It was frustrating, but he wasn't sure exactly how to express that. He wasn't sure how to express anything anymore, especially without sounding like some type of retard.

The hot water beat down on him, mimicking the way his thoughts seemed to beat him. He just needed to be alone, he needed silence and darkness and time to be able to process everything. He needed the space to express what he needed to express, but couldn't do any of that downstairs, constantly around everyone else.

He had learned to rely on his gut feelings. He wasn't always sure why he would feel or think a certain way, but he had to trust himself and know there were reasons for everything. One of those things was the fact he didn't feel like he could show his true emotions around everyone else. Sure, he knew emotions came out while he had nightmares when he slept, but those he couldn't do anything about.

His body trembled as he turned the now cold water off. He felt weak, he felt like a failure. He thought for a moment that perhaps the things his dad has said were true. Maybe he was just a baby. A big baby that couldn't even manage the strength to dress himself. He was worthless. Bobby was wrong, he wasn't worth the time and effort that was putting into his healing. They should have let him be. They should have just walked away from him.

He managed to struggle enough that he pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair still dripped water drops onto his shoulders and neck, running to his upper back, leaving his shirt wettened with each new drop.

He opened the bathroom door and found Bobby exactly where he said he would be. With trembling, weak steps Dean walked through the door and pressed his back against the wall. He stood, trusting the wall to support him, and stared at his bedroom door. His arms were by his side, his palms pressed tightly against the wall that held his support. His breathing increased the longer he stared at the room he was supposed to go to.

"You don't have to sleep in there if you don't want."

Dean quickly turned his head, his eyes wide, and looked at Bobby with a sense of shock, like he had just told him the biggest secret in the world.

"Do you remember what's happened in that room?"

Dean lowered his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. Truth was, he wasn't completely sure if he did or not. That was one of those things he wasn't sure if it was all jumbled up in his head or if it was real.

"Yes, that's your room but you've been attacked in there, do you remember that?"

Dean half nodded his head, realizing perhaps what he remembered was real.

"Ssssammy?"

"Yeah, one time was."

"Ssssome…. Gggreeen…" Dean shrugged. He wasn't sure how to finish what he was trying to say. He wasn't sure what it was called. He just remembered the attack and it had something to do with a green guy or green slime. But, that wouldn't make sense to a normal person, so perhaps his mind wasn't working quite right.

"Yeah. It was an ancient creature that possessed you with green goo."

Dean swallowed hard, giving another look at his room.

"How about you get some rest in my room? That's where you've always felt safe after the attacks."

Dean gave Bobby a grin, accepting his offer. Anywhere but his room was fine with him right now.

Bobby wrapped his arm around Dean's back, feeling the trembling in his exhausted body. He helped him to his room and gently lowered him onto his bed.

Dean sat there for a moment, his eyes staring straight ahead, toward the door. His mind a million miles away.

"What's got you all in a pickle?" Bobby asked as he took the small chair that was in his room and moved it near where Dean sat, and he sat in it, giving Dean his entire attention.

"Wwwhy?"

"Why what?"

"Ddddid thhhey attack mmm…mmme."

"Who? Here lately, you're gonna have to be more specific than that."

Dean shrugged his shoulders as he lightly closed his eyes and held them shut for a few moments before opening them again. He looked over at Bobby.

The deepness in his eyes took Bobby by surprise. There was a loss in his eyes. A deep sadness and hurt like he had never seen before. The normal sparkle of life in his green eyes had dulled with the darkness that took its place. His breathing was deep and somewhere between normal and panic. The expression on his face was as blank as a book that has never been written.

"Dean." Bobby waited to see if there was a change in him before he continued to speak, there wasn't. "Listen to me. If you don't ever listen to anything anyone else says to you. If you never listen to another word I say again. I want you to hear this one thing and really listen to me."

He waited again. There was a slight shift in Dean's eyes, giving Bobby the sign that Dean was hearing him. "Things may seem all screwed up right now, and trust me, they are. And I know you still have a long way to go, but you've also come a long way. So, no matter what people may tell you, no matter what you may feel or think. You're not in this alone. You gotta keep fighting, no matter what, because in the end. When this is all over. It will all end up being okay."

Dean moved his lips slightly, like he wanted to respond to him, like he had something to say but couldn't.

Bobby waited patiently, allowing Dean the time he needed to form his words.

"Iiiii… I cccan't…" Dean paused, obvious frustration with himself as he slightly shook his head in disgust.

"Take your time. It's okay. It's just you and me and we've got all night."

Dean closed his eyes and drew in a few deep, calming breaths. He then opened his eyes again, looking at Bobby, and attempted his words one more time.

"Iiii…" He paused, drawing in another deep breath. "I ccan't…" He swallowed hard. "I don't kkknow howww." Another deep breath and shake of his head. "I… don't… know…" Another deep breath. "Www…" a pause. "What's… rrreal…" Pause and deep, calming breath. "In… my… head."

It was an obvious struggle, but he had managed to say most of his words without stuttering. It took time, and patients for both of them. But, Bobby couldn't be prouder. Dean was learning, he was learning how to calm himself and control his words. He was sure Dean had never truly learned how to calm himself enough to control his thoughts before.

"Chances are, everything in your head is real. The time lines might be a bit crossed, and you may not understand everything, especially if it doesn't fit in the right time slot. But it's probably all real."

Dean crinkled his forehead, thinking of how to say his next few words.

"Dddddid…" He paused, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. His hands trembled.

Bobby placed his hand on Dean's. "It's okay. Take your time."

"I… wwwas… rrrr…" Dean couldn't, he just couldn't finish what he was saying. His head spun. His stomach turned. His life, as he knew it, seemed to be flipped upside down, again.

Bobby drew in his own deep breath. "Yeah. You were. Not sure what time you're talking about, but for nearly the past year, it's been pretty much hell on all of us. But, especially on you."

"Dad?" Dean whispered the question.

Bobby nodded with sadness. "Yeah."

"Wwwhy?"

"He was possessed by the same thing that possessed you, the old man with green goo."

"He…" Judging by the new expression on Dean's face and his struggle to speak, told Bobby this was one of the most emotionally hardest thing since his memories have been coming back. "Him… too?"

"Yeah. Him too."

"Heeee… He hhhurt… a lot."

Bobby nodded, both agreeing and telling Dean it was okay for him to talk about it.

Dean looked into Bobby's eyes. The questions that were in Dean's head almost seem to seep from his eyes.

"Dddid" Dean visibly calmed himself. "The demons… whhho attacked me…" again, Dean had to calm himself to stop the stuttering and trembling of both his voice and his body.

"This time." Dean continued. "They… did too?"

Bobby pressed his lips together tightly and formed them into a straight line. "Yeah, they did." He said as he nodded his head with confirmation of what Dean was saying.

Dean closed his eyes. "It fffelt… like… acid."

Bobby swallowed hard, not sure how to respond.

"Gggoing… through… mmmmy… body." Dean continued.

Bobby still didn't know how to respond. "It's all over. You're safe now." Was the only thing that he could manage to get through his lips.

"Mmm tired." Dean said, still not opening his eyes.

He started to let his body fall to its side and Bobby quickly grabbed him and help ease his body into a laying position. He made sure Dean was comfortable before leaving him.

"Remember, it's going to be okay." He whispered to Dean before he turned away from him. Tears threatening to fall from his eyes. He turned out the light and closed the door as he left.


	73. Chapter 73

**CHAPTER 73**

Sam was sitting in the chair near the couch, anxiety quickly taking over. His head snapped up and over to Bobby when he entered the room.

"Where's Dean?"

"Don't you worry about your brother, he's fine."

"I asked a question! Where the hell is Dean?"

"He's upstairs, sleeping."

"What the hell! Why is he there?"

"Because he asked me to help him upstairs."

"And you just let him stay up there?"

"He's not a kid. He's free to do what he wants."

"Yeah, because that's worked out well for him lately."

"Hey, your brother needed some space. He wanted to try to get some good rest in darkness and quietness. He needs time alone too, just like the rest of us."

"And what about his nightmares?"

"What about them?"

"How do you plan on stopping them when he's up there and we're down here?"

"I don't."

"What do you mean you don't?"

"I mean, they're going to happen rather he's here or there. There's no stopping it. He needs his own space to be able to process everything and react accordingly, even if his processing is through his nightmares. He'll be fine. And, if they get bad enough, we'll hear him from down here."

"That's your answer? If they get bad enough we'll hear him from down here?"

"Yup." Bobby turned and headed back into his work area. "And, don't go up there bugging him either, he ain't in his room."

Sam sighed with irritation as he flopped himself on the now empty couch.

"What's got you acting like a girl?" John asked as he walked through the door, bags in hand, and witnessed Sam's frustration drop on the couch.

"Nothing." He pouted.

John couldn't help but roll his eyes at his youngest son. "Where's Dean?" He asked as he made his way to the kitchen with the bags he was carrying.

"Bobby helped him upstairs, so he could get some quiet alone time." Sam pouted.

"Good, maybe it'll help."

"Damn straight I did!" Bobby shouted from the other room. "And I'll tell you the same thing I told Sam, don't you go messing with him either."

"He's my damn son, I'll do whatever the hell I want, but I didn't have any plans on bothering him." John's tone was irritated toward Bobby.

"And I'll tell you another thing." Bobby came into the kitchen to continue his conversation with John. "You need to stop running that piehole of yours and telling Dean shit that ain't true."

"I don't know what he's been telling you but I haven't said a damn thing that isn't true to him."

"So, you think he's retarded now?"

"I don't know! How the hell is anyone supposed to know that with the way he's been talking?"

"Dad!" Sam sounded upset with what his dad just said.

"John!" Bobby was just as upset. "I can tell you, he's not retarded. Everything in his head is still there, it just takes him a little longer to be able to express it."

"Well, then he needs to start acting like it."

"He is, if you'd take the time to actually give a shit!"

John rolled his eyes.

"What's a matter? Afraid he's going to embarrass you around the other hunters?"

"He tell you I said that?"

"Yeah, he did."

"Whatever. I'm not going to argue with you about my own damn son!" John ended with his voice raised to a near shout before he stormed out of the room.

"Right, because you'd rather keep everything you have to say in private." Bobby shouted back with irritation.

John stormed upstairs, stopping by the boys' room to find Dean not in there. 'Right, of course you'd put him in your room.' John mumbled to himself as he made his way down the hall.

"I don't understand what's gotten into Dad." Sam sighed.

"Who knows, your Dad's always got something eating at him." Bobby replied as he headed back to his desk.

Sam collapsed on the couch, wondering if this was his new life. He wondered if anything would go back to the way it used to be. It seemed like forever since he had seen normal. Sure, their lives have never been normal compared to the rest of the world, but it sure as hell wasn't the normal he had been used to either.

Dean was lost somewhere in his own head. John wasn't always the greatest dad, okay Sam never saw him as a good dad at all, but lately he had been worse than he could remember. He was always tough on Dean, but he had seemed to take that to a whole new level.

He wondered if his dad really thought Dean was stupid now. Sam honestly wasn't sure what was going on with Dean's condition. He didn't talk enough for anyone to know. Which, that itself was concerning enough since Dean wasn't known for being quiet.

There were stories about Dean being mute after the trauma of losing their mom. But, in all the years that Sam could remember, he had never seen Dean be so silent. He didn't realize until now, but he missed the ridiculous comments that Dean always seemed to come up with. He missed the way Dean always laughed at himself because he always thought everything he said was funny.

Damn, what he wouldn't give to have those moments back. He would give anything to have the brotherly moments back. The moments in the old dirty motel rooms where they were free to be themselves, free to express their emotions and talk about life. Sometimes they would even take their frustrations out on each other physically, but after throwing a few punches they would always find their way back to each other. They were brothers and nothing would break that bond.

Life has thrown more than a few punches at them, but this time, Sam wondered if it was too many, if they would be able to find their way back to each other, if they could still be the brothers they've always been.

Bobby had stepped up and taken the place of Dad. He became the person Dean would turn to and trust. It wasn't much of a surprise as those two always had a special bond. But, Sam never really saw him as a father figure. But, he had started rethinking that.

He wondered if it was really that difficult for John to process his own feelings. He wondered if that's why Dean found it so difficult to express himself, because John had never been there to show him how. Or, maybe it was a complete opposite. Maybe John showed Dean how to hold everything in. Maybe he taught him how to not express his feelings. Maybe their dad's way of dealing with things were the same as Dean's. Perhaps because Dad had taught him how.

He always knew Dean would hold everything in until he was in a place that he felt safe, or alone, then he would let loose on the nearest door or wall. He would slam things across the room and use his frustration on the monsters he killed.

Maybe that's what has his dad so frustrated. Maybe that's why he seems to be harder on Dean than he ever remembered. Maybe, just maybe, it was for more than one reason. Maybe he felt that Dean was being too weak, showing too much emotions. Maybe it was because he wasn't able to get alone, or feel safe, and hadn't hunted in so long that he had no way of releasing everything he had been holding in.

At least, rather he knew it or not, Dean was able to release things through his nightmares. He wasn't holding things the way he normally would. He hated that his brother was having nightmares, but at least there was some good that came from it.

Sam drew in a deep breath and pushed himself off the couch. He turned, pausing as he took a long look at the stairs, then slowly made his way to the top of the stairs. His legs felt as heavy as his thoughts. His stomach felt like it was crumbling with his life.

He paused in the doorway of his room. Both beds sat empty. He wondered when the last time the room that always gave them comfort had felt normal. He wondered if it would cause Dean pain and agony to ever be in there again.

He sighed and drew in another deep breath. Turning he walked down the hall, pausing at the door to Bobby's room. He could feel the tears prick at the back of his eyes as he rested his head against the door. His palm flattened on the door as if he was trying to soak his brother up. Trying to let a part of him drift to Dean, letting him know he was still there, he was safe and not alone.

He listened closely and was relieved to not hear his brother in any distress through the door. He drew in another deep breath and pushed himself away from the door and headed toward his dad's room. He lightly knocked on the door, unsure of the reason he had found himself standing there.

"Yeah?" The voice from inside answered the knock.

Sam slowly turned the knob with a trembling hand and stepped inside the room. He closed the door behind him, barely leaving it unlatched. He wasn't sure why he did that, but if he's learned anything in his life it was to not question his actions, everything he did was for a reason, rather he knew what that reason was or not.

He leaned his hips against the dresser that was near the door, both hands grasped the edge of it hard enough to turn his knuckles white. He cleared his throat as his dad sat at the edge of his bed, watching his son's silent movements.

"I take it you need to talk about something?" John questioned, rubbing his hand down his face. Exhaustion evident in his features.

Sam watched his dad. His age was showing his in features on his face. His hard life was etched into each line that wrinkled his eyes and forehead. His eyes were dull from the things they had seen in long years of life. They didn't hold a sparkle, not the way Dean's did. They didn't appear to hold life, instead they held a death, or at least the willingness to accept it.

Yeah, what's your problem. Have you always been this big of an ass? Are you upset because you lost your perfect little soldier? What if Dean doesn't make a full recovery? Then what? Are you still going to love him? love us? So many questions that ran through his head, but he stood there, silent, watching his dad's movements and taking in the emotions that flashed from his face to the empty space between them.

"What was your dad like?"

What was your dad like? All the things that were running through Sam's head and that's the question he asks? He wondered for a moment why he would ask that, then quickly remembered not to question himself or his actions. So, he waited patiently for a reply.

"What?" The question caught John by surprise.

"What was your dad like?" Sam repeated.

John drew in a long-ragged breath, wiping his hand down his tired face. He looked up at his youngest son. He noticed how nervous he looked, how unsure of the situation he was.

"My… uh… I don't remember a lot about my father." John said hesitantly.

Sam's brows crinkled in the middle of his forehead as he slightly cocked his head to the side. His face showed clear confusion.

"My, um…" John cleared his throat. "My biological father left when I was young."

"How young?"

"Four."

Sam's body seemed to relax a little. "That's the same age Dean was when mom died."

"Yeah." John sighed. "I don't… uh… I don't know what happened to my father, why he left. I don't know if he's dead or alive."

"Really?"

"Yeah. My mom said she just woke up one morning and he was gone. He didn't pack any of his stuff. He just disappeared. No one ever heard from him again."

"Wow." Sam's body sagged slightly as he relaxed into the conversation.

John's body language changed as Sam relaxed. Neither seemed to be on the defense at the moment.

"How… how did you… uh… handle not having him around anymore?"

John shrugged. "The way you would expect I'm guessing. Like I said, I really don't remember him much. He was gone on business a lot."

"What did he do?"

John's lips tightened in a straight line that almost formed a frown as he slightly shook he head. "I don't know."

Sam shifted and sat on the edge of the bed near his dad. "No one ever told you what your dad did?"

"Nope. Mom never spoke of it after he was gone. In fact, I remember her getting upset if I mentioned him after that day. And, well, like I said, I was only four, so I don't remember if there was ever any mention of what he did."

"Your mom got upset when you mentioned your dad?"

"Yeah."

Sam dropped his head for a moment then lifted it to look at his dad as he spoke. "Is that why everyone gets so upset when anything is said about Mom?"

John drew in another deep breath and released a sigh. "I suppose so. I guess I never really thought about it. I figured it would be easier if we just left her out of our conversations."

"So, did your mom raise you by herself?"

John shook his head. "No, she remarried."

"So, what was your step dad like?"

"I hated him. He was a mean son of a bitch. I would go to my grandparents' house as often as I could."

Sam cocked his head to the side again, he was trying to size up the situation, figure out where this conversation was going. He wanted his dad to elaborate on what he just said, but he didn't want to push him too far. He knew what his dad was capable of when he was pushed, and he didn't want any part of that man right now.

Sensing Sam's thoughts John continued. "Look, my mom was loving. Okay. I remember her singing and dancing around the house. I remember sitting on the floor playing with toys and my mom and dad would put on some old records and dance together. I remember there was a lot of laughter and smiles. When he was home, he would tuck me in bed and always kiss me goodnight. Mom would read me a story before turning out the light."

John wiped a small tear away that teetered at the edge of his eyelid, threatening to fall down his cheek.

"But, after my dad disappeared, everything changed. I guess, looking at it now, my mom fell into a depression. She stopped laughing. Stopped tucking me in bed and reading me stories. She would drink, a lot. And then she started bringing guys home. I could hear them from my bedroom. Of course, I didn't know exactly what all the noise was at that age."

John released as small chuckle at the thought of that.

"But, then she brought home a guy and he never left. He would drink as much as she did. They would fight and scream. At night, I would bury my head under the pillow so I didn't have to hear them."

He paused for a moment to keep his emotions in check.

"You see, son." He continued. "Back then things weren't talked about like they are now. What happened in the home stayed in the home. There weren't all these things for abused families like there are now. They didn't have all these therapists and crap that everyone seems to think they need nowadays."

"Where you abused?" Sam took the opportunity to ask his question as his father paused again.

"I was punished, a lot, sometimes I wouldn't even have to do anything wrong to get punished. That's why I would try to go to my grandparents' house as often as I could. I just got so damn tired of seeing them beat on each other."

John's tone changed to anger.

"She would always have black eyes and bruises on her body. She quit taking care of herself. She never brushed her hair or changed out of that damn night gown. Hell, I don't even think she showered much anymore. She sure as hell quit cooking and cleaning. The only thing either of them did was sit around and drink and yell and beat on each other. Of course, his beatings were a lot more damaging than her little punches."

"Did your mom hit you too?" Sam's voice was shaking with the words his dad was saying.

"A few times. That's why as soon as I turned old enough I signed up to be a marine. I had to get away from them, but we didn't have any money, so it was the only way I could figure to do so."

"Did you see your mom again after you left?"

John shook his head. "Didn't want to."

"What about your grandparents?"

"My grandma passed away while I was at boot camp. I went to her funeral, I guess I did see my mom there now that I think of it. But, I don't think I even spoke to her. After that, while I was shipped off, my grandpa passed and I wasn't able to make it back for his funeral. So, there wasn't anything to go back to after that."

"What about your mom, is she still alive?"

"From what I heard, right after I left the military she passed away from some overdose or something like that. And, her husband ended up shooting himself in the head not long after."

"So, your whole family is dead?"

"No." John said with a smile. "My family is right here. You and Dean. We got each other, no one else matters."

Sam gave John a sincere smile.

"Is that why you drink so much?" Sam couldn't help it. He just couldn't. He needed to know why his dad was the way he was. He needed to know because he needed to know that he really did still love him.

John shrugged. "I don't know son." He sighed. "I guess so. I mean, when I first went into the marines I didn't much care for drinking. But, everyone did it. It didn't matter if you were old enough or not. So, I started drinking with all my buddies. Then, when we went to war, it became a way to drown out the feelings and what you had to help you sleep at night."

"Without nightmares?" Sam added as a question and statement together.

"Yeah, son, without nightmares." He patted Sam's knee.

"Not much different from the hunting life, huh?"

"Pretty damn close to being the same thing."

Sam gave his dad a half-hearted smile, trying to tell him he understood, but was also sad that his dad had that kind of life.

"I guess that's why I raised you and Dean the way I did." John added.

Sam raised his head in shock and looked directly at his dad.

"I mean." John's words started trailing off just slightly. "I guess that's the only way I knew how. I guess I just did what I was taught."

"Dad?" Sam's voice sounded so much like a scared, lonely child at that moment.

"Yeah?" Sam's voice had pulled John from a dark place his mind was starting to travel to.

"Do you… uh… you know… do you love me?"

John closed his eyes as he took a hard swallow and drew in a breath. He opened his eyes, locking them with Sam's. "Son. I want you to listen to me. If there's not a damn thing you ever remember about me, I want you to remember this. I love you."

Sam's eyes watered with tears that threatened to fall.

"I have always loved you. And, I will always love you. And Dean. You boys are all I have, you're all I've ever wanted. I know I don't always show it, hell, I don't really know how. But, that doesn't make it untrue. You hear me?"

Sam nodded as the tears dripped down his cheeks.

"I love you." John repeated as he reached out and pulled his son toward him, allowing Sam to embrace him and cry on his shoulder. "I love you, and I promise you, this is just a spot we're stuck in right now. We'll get out of this. As a family, together, we'll heal and everything will be okay."


	74. Chapter 74

**CHAPTER 74**

Dean was standing in the middle of an empty field. He wasn't sure how he had gotten outside, the last thing he knew he was laying in a warm bed, sleeping. Now he was wide awake, looking around. His body turned slowly with his eyes, taking in the sights around him.

In the near distance there were a group of trees, it appeared to be the beginning of a patch of woods. On another side there was a gravel road with a small pull off made out of dirt. Dean looked up and down the road but couldn't seem to be able to see where it came from or where it led. The dirt pull off had tire tracks caped in the dust.

For a moment Dean wondered if he was dropped off there by someone, but he couldn't remember being in a car or driving anywhere. Behind him and to his other side was nothing but an open field. The field seemed to go on forever, the ground changing with the space.

The area Dean stood had knee high grass that had grown without care, but as he looked down the area he could see a section that appeared to be dirt mounds. Perhaps they were harvesting the seeds for the upcoming season.

There was a nearby crack, like the snapping of a stick. Instantly Dean's ears perked up. His heart rate sped and his breathing increased. He was in full hunter's mode. He was looking for the thing that caused the sound around him. He reached for his gun that he kept tight in his waistband, but it wasn't there. He couldn't understand why, but without giving it a second thought, he reached for his knife. It wasn't there either.

Confused Dean looked down and noticed he stood there in a pair of sweatpants. No shirt. No shoes. "No problem." Dean whispered to himself, finishing his thoughts with a song. He shook his head, stopping his rambling thoughts.

Something didn't seem right, it just felt… off. Something was wrong, but he couldn't seem to figure out what it was.

"Well, not gonna get anywhere standing around here, Winchester." He grumbled to himself as he headed toward the open road.

One step onto the boiling hot, sharp gravel with bare feet had him pulling his body back onto the grass.

"What the hell?" Dean questioned as he knelt down to put his hand to the gravel. He could feel the heat radiating off the small stones.

More confusion seemed to rise in his mind. He stood and figured maybe if he followed the fields in front of him then he would find an old farm house or somewhere that he could at least figure out where he was. He started walking. And walking. And walking.

He looked around, even though his feet were moving and his body felt like it was as well, the scenery around him didn't seem to change. He didn't seem to be going anywhere.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean spat out with irritation.

He looked at the woods and drew in a deep breath. "Fine, you want it that way?" He screamed into the sky above him. "I'll play your little game!" And he headed for the line of trees that seemed to get closer and closer the more he walked, but he never seemed to reach them, they were just out of reach, just far enough away that he could see the dense thickness of the forest but couldn't seem to enter.

"Okay! I give up! What the hell is going on here?" He screamed into the dead space around him.

"Giving up so soon?" He heard the familiar voice and whipped around to see his dad standing behind him. He wasn't looking at him. Well, not really. Instead he was looking toward the ground.

Dean lowered his gaze and saw a familiar sight. It was him, as a child. He didn't know the age, 10 maybe? He couldn't remember exactly.

"N-no sssir. Iii just neeed a little break." Young Dean was in the position of a push up, laying flat on his stomach on the hot blacktop of the deserted parking lot. His palms flat against the ground and his elbows bent up. It appeared he had collapsed from exhaustion.

"Soldiers don't get breaks!" His dad growled out. "Get your ass up and finish the damn pushups."

"Yyyes sir." Dean sighed as he tried to push himself off the ground with tired, shaky arms.

John stood there nursing a cold beer. Big Dean could see the condensation dripping from it, almost boiling as it dripped onto the blacktop.

"I remember this." He whispered as he watched the two in front of him.

Little Dean was exhausted, he wasn't able to make a proper formation, or push himself up and down correctly. He was punished for his exhaustion by receiving a deep kick to his side.

He groaned as he collapsed once more.

"Get up!" John yelled. "Your punishment isn't over yet!"

"That's right." Big Dean remembered. "Dad came home from a hunt early and had found Sam in the motel pool, and I had went back inside for a few minutes, leaving him out there alone." He mumbled as he huffed at the thought of how his dad always seemed to only come home, or notice things, when it was the wrong moment, five minutes earlier, five minutes later, and he would have found Dean sitting there watching his brother.

He remembered that punishment because it was hot outside, over 100 degrees and they were in the desert. That's why Dean let Sam swim, because the air conditioner couldn't even keep up with the heat. He had gone inside to get them both some water to keep them hydrated when Dad had come home.

He was stripped of his shirt and socks, wearing only a pair of shorts as he laid on the boiling hot black top. His back burned with the 50 sit-ups he had to do, then his palms and chest burned as he completed the 50 push-ups. After that, it was his feet's turn to burn as he had to run for an entire hour, up and down the parking lot.

He remembered it because the burns were so severe Sam cried about how Dean needed to go to the doctor. His burns were deep and black and seemed to take forever to heal. But, like always, John didn't care. He didn't pay attention to his oldest son's needs.

"STOP IT! JUST STOP IT!" big Dean shouted out.

He heard another familiar sound behind him. It was the sound of a fist punching bare skin, probably a face. He turned to see his dad finishing off a hard punch to his face.

"No one talks to me that way, boy!" John growled out.

Dean was a teenager now, not too old, maybe 13 or 14, but a teenager none the less. He raised his hand to his cheek to nurse the stinging from his dad's fist.

"I'm sorry." He said with an anger filled voice. "But, it's just not fair! I want to do one thing… ONE THING… for myself, and I can't even do that! It's not fair because you're the dad! You're the one who's supposed to be looking after Sammy. He's your kid, not mine. I just want this one moment, just a few hours. And you can't even give me that. After everything I do for this family!"

His dad's eyes burned with anger as his fist, once again, flew through the air, connecting with Dean's ribs.

He folded over, throwing his arm over the area his dad had just hit.

"STOP IT!" Teen Dean shouted to his dad. "JUST STOP! WHY THE HELL CAN'T YOU BE A DAMN DAD FOR ONCE IN YOUR SORRY ASS LIFE!"

That comment got him the beating of a lifetime.

"All I wanted was to go to a stupid party with kids from school. I wasn't going to be gone but for a couple hours, and you weren't even on a hunt, you could have watched him." Big Dean sighed as a tear dripped from his face.

He remembered how much Sammy had apologized that night. How he didn't want to leave Dean's side. Somehow, with Sam's help, he managed to make his way into his bed. His little brother was there, washing the blood from the areas he could and holding Dean's head in his lap.

He didn't want Sam to feel bad. He didn't want him to apologize. He didn't do anything wrong. This was between him and dad, and honestly it was Dean's fault. He knew better than to want to go to some stupid party. He knew better than to want anything for himself.

His body relaxed when he heard his dad stomp out of the house and slam the door. He knew he was heading to the bar, and that meant he would be gone for the rest of the night. That means they would be able to sleep without having to worry about their dad. With any luck, he wouldn't even come home. Instead, he would shack up with some chick he found at the bar and just stay gone for the rest of the night.

Teen Dean slipped his eyes closed and allowed himself to fall into the darkness he could feel surrounding himself.

"I never realized how much hatred Dad had for me." Big Dean pouted into the air as he lowered his head.

"Hatred? You think I'm hateful? Really? Boy, you ain't seen hateful yet!"

This time when Dean turned he saw his dad standing face to face with his little brother. Sam was probably around the same age as Dean was in the last scene he just saw take place. He knew this because another version of himself stood nearby, and he was around 16 or 17.

"Yeah." Sam said, trying to stand taller. "I think you're mean! You don't give a shit about us!"

John raised his hand and adult Dean quickly moved his way between his dad and brother, receiving the hard slap across the face that was meant for Sam.

"Get the hell out of my way!" John shouted at Dean as he grabbed his shoulders, trying to push him out of the way.

"NO." Dean said firmly. "You don't hit Sammy!" His shoulders were square, his jaw was set. He wasn't going to back down. He was making sure his dad understood clearly what he was saying.

"Sam. Go to your room." Dean ordered.

"But… I wanna go to the library!" Sam pouted.

Dean couldn't believe how hard headed his brother could be. "Dad said no, and I'm saying not right now. Now, go to your room, I'll take you myself later." He softened his voice slightly but didn't let his glare on his dad or his stance faulter.

"Fine, whatever." Sam pouted as he turned to leave. "But, he's still a meanie!" he added as he walked away.

"Sam." Dean's voice held a warning that Sam wasn't going to fight against.

Big Dean sat on the ground, feeling weakened by the life he was watching in front of him.

"I ended up taking Sammy to the library after Dad settled down." Big Dean reminisced. "That was the first time I ever stood up to him like that. But, I had to protect Sammy, even if it meant protecting him from Dad." Dean wiped a shaking hand down his face.

"Why is Dad always so mean to you?" He heard his brother's voice behind him.

He spun around to see him and Sam sitting in a booth having ice cream. Sam had to be close to 16 years old, close to being able to drive. Close to leaving them all.

Older Dean just shook his head. "It's not like that, Sammy."

"Yes, it is."

"Look, Dad has a hard job, we both know that. It gets stressful. Sometimes he needs to let out his frustration and stress. He can't hold it all in."

"He can find a different way to do that besides using you as a punching bag."

"Kid, he doesn't use me as a punching bag." Dean chuckled as he ruffed up Sam's hair. "Let's face it, I'm not exactly perfect. Perfect looking, yes, but I do a lot of dumb stuff and Dad just helps me notice what I do and rightfully punishes me for it."

"You can call it whatever you want, but that's not true and you know it." Sam huffed as he finished his last bite of ice cream and pushed himself from the bench.

Dean wrapped his arm around his brother's shoulder as they walked out the door. "Yeah, it is, and we both know it. But, how about we just let it go? Nothing's gonna change so there's no point in arguing about it." Dean ruffed up Sam's hair again before they walked out of Big Dean's sight.

He couldn't help but smile. He remembered that moment too, Dad had a long drunken night and it ended with Dean laying in a sobbing, bloody mess on the floor. But, no matter what Dean went through, he would always try to make Sammy feel safe. And the moments they did the simple, normal things, like eating ice cream at a soda fountain and talking was as good as it could get.

He heard slamming behind him, he turned again to see his dad throwing a chair across the room.

"This is the night Sammy left." Dean said to himself. He remembered that night way too clear. Their dad was beyond pissed. He tore apart the little house they rented, shattered everything inside it.

Once scene turned into another as he started feeling dizzy from turning so many times.

"Is this what you want? Do you like it? Feels good doesn't it?" The voice was familiar, he had heard it before, but it wasn't anyone he knew. His heart froze with his body. Fear struck like lightening through his body and he was scared to turn around, scared to see the scene that was playing out right behind him.

He could hear Sam's muffled cries. He could hear words slur from the unfamiliar mouth that seemed too close. He turned and saw him and Sam, captured, in the make shift dungeon of the man who had the blood of so many hunters on his hands. The man who wanted to add to the blood thirst he was feeling.

"Oh god." Dean gasped as he watched the scene, not as the person who was there, taking the abuse. But, as an outsider. He was seeing what Sam had to see. He could see his beaten body restrained to the table, blood running down his legs and dripping to the floor.

He could smell the assaulting fragrance of burnt flesh as the man stopped him from bleeding to death. His own screams sickened him, deafened his ears. He looked at Sam, he was pulling tight against the restraints. Tears running thick down his face, trying to yell through the gag.

"No, please, not this." Dean had fallen to his knees, too weak to stand and watch the scene before him. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry you had to see this." He cried as the man continued the punishment he delivered to Dean's body.

Then, somehow, he managed to make it to the door, unlock it, and Dad was there. Dad and Bobby. Both of them were there to save them. To save him. John allowed Bobby to head to Sam as John knelt beside Dean, taking care of and soothing his oldest son. He picked him up and carried him in his arms. It was so careful. He didn't throw him over his shoulder or hold him in a fireman carry, he held him with his head resting on his dad's shoulder. He even stopped to have Bobby pick up a nearby cover as they passed it on their way out, and covered Dean's naked body.

The love and care that radiated off that moment was unlike anything Dean had ever felt before. His dad was honestly concerned about him. He loved him. At that moment he loved him, and there was no denying it. Big tears ran down John's face as he carried his broken son to the safety of his car.

Big Dean stood and moved around the scene, stopping in front of his dad's figure. "You loved me." He said to the dad who was fading away from the scene before him.

He turned again, fully expecting another scene of his life playing out behind him. But, when he turned he stumbled back in shock, instead of the empty field he had been standing in, there was now an infinite blackness that took its place.

He heard a deep, dark growl behind him. Slowly he turned to see what he had just seen a moment ago had also turned pitch black and standing in front of him was a creature he had never seen before. It was huge. I had a wolf like head, vampire teeth mixed with deep fangs.

It had hooves on the bottoms of the legs that scraped at the dirt like a bull who was readying itself to charge. On its head were horns that pointed at the end. Its head was lowered in a charging gesture.

It didn't take long for fear to strike through Dean's body as he turned and started on a run. As he ran he could hear the creature closing in behind him. The pounding of the hooves was enough to make the ground shake. The panting breathes from the creature sounded closer and louder than the thud of his own heart in his ears.

As he ran down the long, dark, black path in front of him, he noticed he had started running past lines of people. They stood on each side of him. Their arms stretching out toward him. Their cries and screams for him to help them, to save them. He began to notice the faces on the bodies were the faces from ones who were killed from the monsters he hunted. Some of them killed before he took on the case, some were the victims he failed at saving.

There were men, women, and children of all ages and sizes, screaming in pain. They were begging him to save them. But, he couldn't stop, he couldn't save them. He had to keep running, he had to save himself from the monster that was charging behind him.

He didn't dare turn and chance a glance. He could still hear the monster gaining on him. The screams from the victims filled his head. His muscles ached from the excessive over use of them. His legs trembled to hold up his weight. He stumbled a few times, fighting to keep himself from face planting the ground beneath him. He tripped over his own feet, his muscles protesting. His head pounded with a mixture of his heartbeat and the screams around him.

Suddenly, without warning, the victims he had yet to run past moved. They formed a wall a few feet in front of him, blocking him from running any further. They were reaching out, grabbing for him, like they wanted to grab him, pull him into their world, punish him for allowing their deaths.

He quickly turned, barely able to keep his own breath, and saw the creature still running toward him, head down, horns pointed toward him….


	75. Chapter 75

**CHAPTER 75**

Dean's scream broke through the tears that Sam was leaving on his dad's chest. It broke through the calming relief John was feeling as he held and comforted his youngest son. It broke through the silence where Bobby sat working on a case for another hunter.

With a gasp Sam had pulled away from the comfort of his dad and had quickly dashed out of the room. John rushed right behind him as he busted through the door to Bobby's bedroom.

Dean had scrambled himself into the far corner of the bed, his back held tight against the corner of the walls that held the mattresses in place. He had his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, pulling his knees against his chest. His grip on his own arms was tight enough to turn his knuckles white and leave small bruises on his arms.

His body was somewhere between a tremble and a hard shake. His heart racing the speed of his breaths. He was rocking back and forth as his untamed eyes darted around the room for the dangers only he could see.

"Dean!" Sam slowed his pace and leveled his tone. He crawled unto the bed where his brother huddled in the corner. "Hey, Dean. It's okay. It's me. Sammy." He reassured him the closer he moved toward his brother.

He was careful not to move to quickly, or too close. He wasn't sure where his brother's mind was at and didn't want to find out the hard way.

"Dean?" Sam paused his movement as Dean's eyes quickly shifted to him with the mention of his name. "You hear me?"

Dean stared.

"It's me, Sammy."

"Sssammy?" Dean crinkled his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed for a quick moment before reopening them.

"Yeah, it's me. You okay?" He moved again, this time stopping in front of Dean and gently laid a hand on one of his. "You okay, man?"

Dean shook his head, as if he was trying to shake out whatever was inside there. "Sammy?" he asked again.

"Yeah. It's me. You okay?"

"I…." His eyes darted around the room again. "I don't know." He said as his eyes stopped on the two other forms who stood in the room.

Bobby had rushed upstairs, getting into the room only seconds after the other two had.

"Hey, Dean." Sam soothed, feeling the shift in Dean's body language and watched as the trembling became more pronounced. "Look at me."

Dean shot his eyes back at his brother.

"I need you to focus on me, okay?"

Dean nodded gently

"Okay. Good. Can you tell me what's in your head right now? What has you so scared?"

Dean's eyes shot around the room again.

"Dean. Look at me."

His eyes landed back on his brother. "Is it gone?" He whispered.

"Is what gone?"

"The monster."

"Yeah. Yeah, it's gone. There's no monster in here."

"Where…" Dean looked around again, stopping to study Bobby and John, before looking back at Sam. "Where did they all go?" His voice was still low and a near whisper.

"Who?"

"The… the dead people."

"Ghosts?"

Dean shook his head and studied Bobby and John again.

"Then who?"

Dean looked back at his brother. "The people." He looked again at Bobby and John then back at Sam. "The people I couldn't save."

Sam drew his face into a sad expression and looked over at his dad and Bobby.

"Son." John spoke calmly and moved cautiously toward him. "We're not dead. I can promise you that."

Dean watched him approach the bed and sit on the edge. Bobby soon moved with him, resting on a stool that sat nearby.

Dean sat and watched them without making a sound. His body still trembling but had calmed some.

"Dean." Sam spoke again. "Who couldn't you save?"

"All of them." Dean answered as he looked back at Sam.

"All of who?

"The people I couldn't save." Dean's tone started turning irritated.

"Dean. I don't understand what you're talking about. Can you explain it to me a little better?"

Dean looked at Bobby, then his dad, then stopped with his eyes on Sam. "I… I don't know."

His expression turned to a mixture of confusion and fear but his body started to relax, his hands loosened their grips on his arms. He still trembled but the rocking back and forth had ceased.

"Can you try?"

Dean nodded. "I… I was… I don't know where. In a field… on a road… by some woods."

Sounds like about a hundred different places we've been, Sam thought to himself.

"How… how did I get here?" Dean looked around the room. This time he wasn't looking for any danger, he was looking at the room surrounding him.

"Hey, man. It was a dream." Sam tried to reassure his brother.

"It was?"

"Yeah. You've been in this room the whole time."

"It…" Dean looked around again. "It felt so real."

"Maybe it was?" Sam shrugged. "Can you tell me about it?"

"I… I was in… that place… I don't know where but then it was like… I don't know… I was watching my life in front of me. Different parts and I watched myself grow up and then… then…" Dean paused, the words getting stuck in his throat with the lump of breath.

"Your whole life? Or just parts of it?" Sam questioned.

Dean shook his head. "Just parts of it."

"What parts?"

Dean shrugged, his body curled into itself.

"Hey, if its too hard to talk about, it's okay. You don't need to push yourself right now." Sam gently sat his hand back on his brother's arm, giving him a reassuring touch.

"There… there was this time when you were little and I let you swim and Dad came home early and I got in trouble and…" Dean's voice started shaking. "It was hot and I had to finish my punishment."

"Damn it." John said, shaking his head and running his hand down his face.

"I remember that." Sam admitted. "I was young. I hadn't known about monsters for very long and it was the first time I saw how Dad acted when he got drunk."

Dean nodded his head.

"You got burned really bad." Sam continued. "Your hands and feet and chest were black from the blacktop burns and they eventually bubbled up and became sores and the rest of your skin, like your face, had a really bad sunburn."

Dean nodded again.

John sighed.

Dean looked over at his dad and dropped his head, looking at his own feet. "Sorry." He mumbled.

"Hey, don't apologize." John quickly responded. "You didn't do anything wrong. What else did you see?"

Dean took a chance to glance up at his dad. What he saw surprised him. John was giving Dean his complete attention. He wasn't being defensive or arguing. There was no blaming. He was honestly concerned about Dean.

Dean shrugged his shoulders, resting his chin on his knees. "Just stuff like you getting really pissed at me and well…" Dean paused.

"It's okay." John assured him.

"The usual." Dean shrugged. "I did something stupid and got punished."

"Dean." John sighed. "I…"

"What else?" Sam interrupted, throwing a glance at his dad, telling him this wasn't the time to start with all the apologizes.

"Dad almost hit you." Dean said, looking up at Sam. "But, I stopped him."

"When was that?"

"You wanted to go to the library and was a suborn teenager. You called Dad a meanie and he got pissed."

Sam chuckled. "Well, if he wouldn't let me go to the library than he deserved to be called a meanie."

Dean smiled back at him. "I took you myself after Dad settled down."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Don't sound so surprised, princess, there's a lot of times I took you places against Dad's original orders."

"You disobeyed Dad?"

"No. Not really. I mean. He told me I could take you after he got over his attitude."

Sam chuckled again.

"Do you remember going out after school?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. We would go out and you would get me ice cream or whatever was around. I really liked it because you would just sit there and let me ramble on about whatever I wanted. You didn't rush me or tell me to shut up. You just listened. Really listened."

"Yeah, kiddo. I liked those times too. It was as close to normal our lives ever felt." Dean said with a grin.

"Yeah, it was."

"I didn't know you two did that." John chimed in.

Dean and Sam both turned to look at their dad.

"No offense, but there's a lot you don't know about us." Dean said matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, son, I know." John admitted.

"Dean always made sure I felt as normal as possible." Sam added.

Dean just shrugged and rested his chin back on his knees. His mind was trying to finish his thoughts, but he didn't want it to. He didn't want to remember the rest of the things he saw.

"Dean. You okay?" Sam asked when he looked back and saw the change on Dean's expression.

"No." Dean admitted.

"What's going on?"

Dean just shook his head.

"What else do you remember seeing?" Bobby asked, figuring someone had to ask it and get this conversation moving again, no matter what direction it moved.

Dean chewed on his lower lip. His arms tightening around his legs.

"We…" Dean glanced up at Sam then back down. "You and me. We were in that… uh…" Dean cleared his throat. "You know, where the guy took us and… uh…"

"Right." Sam nodded. He wasn't sure if he should let Dean try to struggle with the words he was wanting to say or if he should stop him, tell him he understood. He remembered, he was there.

John placed a gentle hand on Sam's arm, telling him to allow Dean to get out whatever he needed to say, no matter how hard it may be.

"I'm sorry Sam." Dean continued, his eyes full of unshed tears as he looked up at his brother. "I wish I could take that all away. I wish you didn't have to be there. Didn't have to see everything he… um… done."

"Dean, it's not your fault. Again, you have nothing to be sorry for. Besides, as hard as it all was… is… I'm glad I was there. I'm glad you didn't have to go through it all alone."

"I don't know if I would have made it through without you." Dean admitted. "You gave me something worth fighting for, something to keep me going. You gave me strength I didn't know I had. Strength to make it through what I had to in order to save you… to save us both."

"Dean, I know this might sound weird. Hell, our lives are as weird as it gets anyhow. But, I would rather watch whatever the hell I need to than to let you go through anything like that alone."

Dean dropped his eyes. "Where were you after that?"

"What?" Sam was shocked by, not only the words his brother said, but the tone of his voice. Dean sounded so broken, so sad, so lost and alone.

"Where were you when I… I was… I had to be in that other place."

"You mean when you got caught up in the human trafficking stuff?"

Dean nodded slowly without looking up at his brother.

"Dean, you ran away from us. We didn't know where you went, that's why I couldn't be there."

"I'm sorry." Dean whispered.

"Dean. Why do you keep apologizing?"

Dean shrugged.

"Look, we've been through a lot over the past year or so. There's been a lot of hurt. A lot of heartache. If I could do anything to change it, anything to take it all away, I would."

"Me too." Dean's voice was so low and broken.

"Hey man, we're gonna get past this, okay? You hear me?" Sam reached out and placed his hand under Dean's chin, pulling his face upward to look at him. "You hear me?"

Dean nodded.

"We're gonna make it through this, the same way we've always made it through everything else."

"Okay." Dean agreed heavy hearted.

"What happened, after you saw that?" Bobby pushed Dean to finish his dream again.

"I… I remember Dad saving us. I remember him carrying me out and I remember him caring. I could see it in his face, in his eyes, in the way he acted."

Dean wiped a tear from his cheek. "Then everything turned black behind me, I turned, then turned again and everything all around me was black. And there was this monster. It was… It was like a mixture of all the monsters we've hunted. And I ran from it. I… I could hear it coming after me, gaining speed on me. And then…"

Dean stopped. He tightened his arms around his legs, his trembling began again. And slowly he started rocking back and forth.

"I ran down like this… this dark hallway or something… and on both sides of me… there were people. Not just people but all the people who got killed by monsters. All the people who caused a case and the ones that I couldn't save, the ones we lost while trying to save them."

Dean's breath trembled as he paused to take in a deep breath.

"They were… they were screaming at me to save them and crying. Even the little kids. And they were reaching out for me to help… but… I couldn't save them. I couldn't stop and save them. I could hear the monster behind me. I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop to save them."

"Hey, Dean." Sam spoke calmly in an attempt to get Dean to concentrate on him.

Dean reached out with both hands and fisted the front of Sam's shirt. His eyes widened and horror filled his face.

"They wanted to take me to their world. They blocked me, so I couldn't run anymore. They were trying to grab me. But, I couldn't let them. I couldn't let them grab me. I couldn't go to their world. And… and the monster he charged at me… so I would end up in their world anyhow, but I couldn't, not without a fight. If I was going to their world then I was going the right way."

"Dean. You're not in their world, man. You're here, with us. Where you belong." Sam paused as confusion laced his brother's face and he released his grip on his brother, pulling away and retreating back to the corner.

"Dean?" Sam questioned.

Dean looked around the room.

"Yeah, okay, well that's the only way I'd expect Dean Winchester to go down anyhow. Either go down swinging or not at all." Sam huffed out, deciding he should maybe keep up the conversation in his brother's head.

"Who… who's Dean Winchester?" Dean half whispered as he glanced at the other two men.

"Uh…" Sam paused, looking over at his dad and Bobby, then back to Dean. "You are."

Confusion seemed to lift from Dean's features. "Oh, yeah, right. I knew that."

"Do… do you know who I am?" Sam questioned.

"Of course, I do, you're my brother."

"What's my name?"

"What the hell does that matter? I know who you are, okay!"

"What's. my. Name." Sam demanded.

"I… I don't know… okay!" Dean shouted.

"Sam. It's Sam!" Sam couldn't help but raise his voice with Dean's.

"Yeah, you're my brother, Sam. Got it, okay? Now stop asking stupid questions!"

"I'm not asking stupid questions! You should know who I am. Hell, you should know who all of us in this room are."

"I know who the hell you are! And I know who they are!" Dean waved his hand toward the other two. "That's our Dad and Uncle."

Sam raised his eyebrows. Dean had never referred to Bobby as simply their uncle. If he introduced them as their uncle he always said 'Uncle Bobby'. For him to simply say uncle was something none of them had heard him so matter-of-factly say.

"Uncle?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah. Maybe you don't know who they are, Sam." Dean huffed out in irritation.

"Oh, I know exactly who they are. What's our 'uncle's' name?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "More stupid questions!"

"What's his name?"

"I don't know, Sam. You're the one who doesn't seem to know, why don't you tell me!"

"It's Bobby!" Sam and Dean were now screaming at each other. "It's Bobby and he's not our damn uncle! You've never referred to him as just an uncle."

"Welllll excuseeee me! Maybe because he's more of a dad than an uncle, but then that's something you wouldn't know anything about is it?"

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"BOYS!" John's yell broke through the stagnant air between them.

Both boys startled, but Dean retrieved back to the safety of the corner, pulling his body as tightly in as he could.

"Sam, get over here." Dean whispered in desperation.

"Dean, it's okay." Sam tried to reassure him, but when he reached out to touch him, Dean grabbed his arm and pulled him toward him.

"Dean. It's okay. I promise." Sam tried again to reassure his brother that he was safe.

"Dean." John softened his voice and moved toward his sons.

"No. Please. I'm sorry." Dean sobbed. "Sammy didn't do anything wrong. It was my fault. Don't punish him, I'm the one who deserves it."

John paused.

You could have heard a piece of dust hit the floor in that moment. Everything fell so sickly silent.

"Dean, I'm not going to hurt you. Neither of you deserve to be punished. Especially the way I've done it in the past." John adjusted himself so he was nearby but not too close and not threatening. He placed his back against the wall and his legs stretched out on the bed.

"Dean." John continued. "Look, I don't know where you're at in your head. I don't know what's going on, but whatever it is, its okay." John looked up and over at his sons.

"I… I'm sorry for the things I've done to you. I'm sorry I was so hard on you when you were younger. I shouldn't have taken my anger out on you. I shouldn't have expected so much from you. You were just a kid, and I expected you to act like a grown man. I expected you to take care of another kid. And, I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have done any of those things."

Dean's grip on Sam's arm loosened, allowing his little brother to shift into a more comfortable position. His eyes were glued on his dad's face.

"Dean, I need you to hear me. I need you to really hear me." John continued. "I… I failed you, I know that. I failed both of you. I wasn't the father I should have been. Hell, I wasn't a father at all. I was a drill sergeant. I was an obsessed, abusive alcoholic. I understand that now. I was turning into the man I never wanted to be. The man I did everything to get away from. And, I'm sorry."

Dean didn't move. His expression never changed. He sat against the corner, eyes glued on his dad.

John wiped a tear from his cheek. "Sammy helped me see that. I never realized it before. I know, you tried to tell me. So many times, in so many different ways, you tried to tell me. And I wouldn't listen. I didn't care. I was more concerned about the monsters in the dark that I didn't take the time to notice the biggest monster that lived in the light, the monster that lived with you, the monster that abandoned you and your brother, the monster that put you through more torture than any other creature out there ever could."

"Yyyy… you?" Dean stuttered out.

"Yeah, son. Me."

Dean shook his head. "You did the best you could."

"I could have done better."

"You cared about us."

"Yeah, that I did, but I didn't take care of you."

Dean shrugged. "I made sure we were taken care of."

"It shouldn't have been your responsibility."

"I've always loved you, I would do anything to help you."

"And, you did. And I appreciate everything you did to help. Everything you've done for me and Sammy. But, it shouldn't have been your responsibility. It should have been mine."

"It's okay." Dean's voice sounded so broken, it was almost inaudible.

"No." John said. "No, it's not. But it will be." John placed a gentle hand on Dean's arm that was still wrapped loosely around his knees. "Hang in there, kiddo, it will all be okay."


	76. Chapter 76

**CHAPTER 76**

Sam could feel Dean's body tremble from exhaustion as it slowly shifted sideways, pressing against his body.

"Dean? You okay?" Sam asked, noticing the drooping of his face.

"Yeah." Dean cleared his throat. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"I'm almost afraid to let you go back to sleep." Bobby half joked.

"Why?" Sam asked, looking up at him, Dean's gaze following.

"Anyone else notice how well he's been talking?"

And, with that comment Sam and John both realized how right he was, and they hadn't even noticed. But, Dean appeared more confused.

"What's wrong with my talking?" Dean questioned.

"You haven't been stuttering." Sam replied.

Dean looked up at his brother confused. But his eyes were drifting closed. His lids felt like they weighed too much to be able to hold open any longer. His body shifted so his shoulder was resting against Sam's shoulder. His eyes drifted open and closed.

"Rest now." John said gently as he shifted to help Dean rest comfortably on the bed. "No matter what you wake to, we'll deal with it when the time comes."

Dean mumbled something that no one could understand but his eyes were too quickly closed to repeat what he said.

After being sure Dean was back asleep and resting comfortably the three men left him alone to rest.

Once they had walked out of the room John leaned his back against the wall outside the door. "What the hell was that?" He breathed out heavily.

"That was your son having some type of nightmare." Bobby was clearly confused by John's question.

"I know that!" John huffed. "I mean, so now he's talking fine? When just few hours ago he was stuttering like a re-" John stopped in the middle of his word.

"Dad." Sam chewed on the inside of he cheeks, puffing out his cheeks slightly and turning the corners of his mouth into a frown. "Please, don't call him that."

"I'm sorry. I know he's not retarded or anything. I don't know what got into me. I guess I'm the retarded one. Hell, I couldn't even raise you boys right."

"You did the best you could." Sam rested his back against the wall beside his dad.

John shook his head. "Dean did the best he could. I failed you both."

"That's where you're wrong. Dean still worships you. He always has. I've never understood it, but doesn't make it any less true." Sam drew in a deep breath. "Dad, Dean needs you right now. He hangs on every word you say. He cares about what you think. He needs you more than anything else right now. He needs to know he's okay. That whatever he's experiencing or feeling or whatever is okay."

John looked up at his youngest son. He was so full of wisdom, yet so innocent. "I don't think I can do that." The raw honest truth poured from his lips.

"Yes, you can." Sam's voice was barely able to make it through the lump in his throat at much more than a whisper. "You just have to be there. Be present. Tell him everything is okay, that he's okay, that he's safe right now."

"And, if I don't believe it?"

"Pretend."

John looked up at Sam. "Is that what you do?"

"Sometimes. Yeah."

John just lowered his head again and nodded.

"Its been a long day for all of us." Bobby broke the uncomfortable silence. "Why don't we all try to get some shut eye what time Dean's back asleep."

John agreed.

"Hey, Bobby." Sam spoke with hesitation in his voice.

"Yeah?"

"Do… uh… do you mind if I stay in your room tonight? With Dean. You know, just in case."

Bobby reached out and gave Sam a gentle pat on the shoulder. "Sure, that'll be fine. I'll just crash in your boys' room tonight." Sam gave Bobby a slight grin. "But don't expect this all the damn time. I ain't changing rooms with you idgits." Bobby grumbled giving the air a lighter feeling.

Sam chuckled. "Wouldn't want to stay in your room anyhow. Just the thought of you being naked in there makes me want to vomit."

"Watch it boy." Bobby joked. "I used to wipe your ass when you were little."

Sam chuckled with a roll of his eyes and all three men headed into their designated rooms for the evening.

Bobby took a long hard look around the room. This was where his boys had spent so much time. They grew up in this room. It was always a safe place for them. A place they came to when a hunt was too hard. It was a place they could come to when they were starving and no where else to go. Bobby was always the person they could go to when they had no where else to turn.

He sighed as he sat on Dean's bed. There had been so much hurt that had taken place in this room lately. Hell, in this house. He wondered if it would ever be the same as before. They kept coming back. Dean kept coming back to heal, to find himself again. Bobby figured that was the best it could get in times like these.

The one that he always looked to like a son, had hurt so much lately and he didn't know how to fix it. Not this time. He had been able to cure him of the possessions before. He had been able to bandage his wounds and stop the physical pain. But this, this went beyond any of that. This was a new level of hurt. This hurt was deep, on an emotional level.

Dean had so much emotional healing that needed to be done. Bobby wasn't sure if he would be able to do what was needed, or if Dean would go back to the way he always was. If he would go back to locking everything away. Put the smile back on his face and pretend everything was okay.

He sighed as he laid on his back, his head against the pillow Dean had used so many times. He stared at the ceiling. Empty thoughts of possible thoughts that engulfed Dean as he laid in this very spot. Thoughts of the attacks he endured in this very room. The thoughts filled his head until the darkness joined with the silent tears that dripped down his cheeks and his eyes became too heavy to hold open any longer.

John collapsed on the edge of his bed with a heavy sigh. So many things running through his head. So many feelings and thoughts it was overwhelming. How could he have been so blind his whole life? And how the hell did it take his youngest son to open his eyes?

Sam and John had always had their differences. They've never seen anything eye to eye. Sometimes he thought they just fought to fight, not even knowing what they were fighting about. But, now he could see. He could see what his youngest had fought against all these years.

He had fought against the exact same person, the same thing, he himself had runaway from the first chance he got. It all made sudden sense. Now, he could understand why Sam had to leave for college, why he had to walk away from his family. It was the same reason John had to join the marines. The same reason he never returned to see his mom again.

His stomach turned with the thought that Dean was just like him. Only, Dean was better, stronger. He had stayed. He took the abuse John handed out, and not once did he ever complain about it. Not once did he ever try to leave. Instead, Sam had reminded him that Dean still idolized him. He still hung on his words, still obeyed without question.

That was one thing John could have never done. He could have never been as strong as his oldest son. He suddenly felt like the luckiest man alive to have a son as great as Dean. Hell, he had two sons who were equally as great. He didn't know how Dean was still there, how he was still with them.

Not only was he strong mentally but his physical strength was something John had always taken for granted. His stomach turned again and he had to fight back the bile that threatened to rise as he had the sudden memory of the sight that took his breath away. He remembered his oldest son on this last attack toward him. When he turned the corner, taking the first look at his oldest son.

There was so much blood. His head laid in a puddle. His brain was exposed to the open elements. His skull split open. His body was beaten. There were bruises and gashes that covered him from the force of the demons who took their hatred out on him. He was, at the very least, sexually assaulted. That was certain, but it was unclear if he was raped or only assaulted with objects that were unknown.

John didn't know what the difference was, but he was reassured by the professionals that there was a difference, but in John's eyes it was all the same. He was sure the feelings, both physically and mentally, would be the same.

He sat and thought about how hard he had been on Dean since this last attack. He knew he was overwhelmed with frustration but he had taken it all out on Dean. He had called him retarded and told him how crappy of a person he was. All because he had fought so damn hard!

He stuttered and was so weak there were times he could barely walk himself to the bathroom. And the whole reason he had been so hateful, so degrading, was because his son was so damn strong. Perhaps he was too strong for John's mind to be able to wrap around. Too strong for him to even be able to admit.

He allowed his body to drop, falling flat on his back on the mattress beneath him. He rubbed a tired hand down his weary face. Sam was right, how could anyone even begin to understand how Dean could still love him. How could anyone understand the logic behind his faithfulness.

He drew in another long ragged breath. It had been too emotional for his body to be able to function any more for the night. He closed his eyes, willing the images in his head to escape him. He hoped beyond all hopes that the thoughts and images that were building in his head wouldn't enter his dreams, wouldn't become his newest nightmare.

Sam didn't head toward the bed, instead he sat in the nearby chair and watched his brother sleep. A part of him was too afraid to sleep, the hunter side of him was on full alert. The man who was always his hero was laying so weak and tender. He was in the most vulnerable place he had ever seen him.

He had witnessed his brother face some of the hardest things in life. He had memories and images he wished he could get rid of, but worse than that, he wished his big brother could empty his life of those things as well. For Dean, it was more than just memories, more than just images, it was feelings and injuries. Scars and a shattered soul.

A tear dripped down the side of his face as he thought of everything that had taken place over the past few months. Hell, it was so much, so often, he had even managed to lose track of time. His brother had been so strong, so tough. He had been stronger than he ever realized. Through out their whole life his brother had been more of a hero than he ever realized.

He had sacrificed so much. Sam sat and thought about the beginning of this long whirlwind of life. He was chained to a wall, watching his brother endure endless torture. He was given the choice to share the pain with Sam, but he refused. He was certain if that man would have touched him, Dean would have found a way to kill him himself.

He had no doubt of the strength and determination his brother held when it came to protecting his family. Not that it was any surprise that Dean was that way. It had been forced into his subconsciousness. It was literally beaten into him. Protect Sam. Protect your brother. Protect your family. At all costs you protect your family, your little brother. No matter what the cost.

That was all Dean knew. He was the one who had to protect everyone else. He was the one who never had anyone protecting him. Sure, there were times Sam had to be there for him, times before now. There were nightmares that had shaken his brother to his core. The same as Sam has had.

They had shared the load when it came to the nights full of dreams they couldn't shake. They had both been there for each other, comforted each other. But, there were very few moments that Dean ever allowed his emotions to show. There were very few times that he even let anyone know there was something wrong with him. He always plastered on a fake smile and pretended life was fine.

He always gave the illusion that he could never be shaken by life, but Sam knew better. He knew his brother was only human. He knew he could only handle so much before he completely shattered. Perhaps he had reached that point. Perhaps he had already shattered. Perhaps this was the calm before the storm.

Perhaps this was the end of his shattering, the end of his strength, the end of his world being okay. Perhaps the brother he had always known would never be the same again. He watched as Dean moved in his sleep. He was restless. It was obvious, at least obvious to Sam, that his brother's sleep was far from peaceful.

He wondered what the dream he had earlier meant. He wondered exactly what Dean saw while he slept. He wondered about the people he had dreamt of, the people he said were trying to pull him into their world. Did they want him to die? To be killed? If he would have entered their world would he have died in his sleep?

Sam watched his brother a little closer with those thoughts. The thoughts that he could have lost his brother without even knowing there was something wrong. Without knowing there was danger lurking in the darkness, in the corners of his brother's mind. Dean's face grimaced with the dreams that were running through his sleeping mind. His muscles tightened and relaxed only to tighten again. There were slight flinches that Sam had to look close to notice. Twitches that his body involuntarily reacted to the images his closed eyes were seeing.

His breath increased, Sam was sure his heart rate probably matched his heavy breathing. The increase of the night brought moans from Dean's hitched breaths. The flinches and twitching of his body increased to slight spasms.

Sam wondered what dreams his head held. He wondered if he was in danger again, or perhaps his mind was flooded with images and memories that plagued him. Nightmares were nothing new to the Winchesters. In fact, they were to be expected. You couldn't live the life they lived without consequences.

The more he had learned about his big brother over the past months, the more he had seen him go through, the more he realized just how much Dean carried on his shoulders. He realized how many life altering consequences he had to face. He realized that the brother he looked up to, the one who he always wanted to be like, the one who was his hero, was stronger than he ever realized.

When he first started to learn the truth about Dean, about the ways he would make sure he was taken care of, the way he would push everything away and pretend it didn't exist, he felt like he was wrong about him being a hero. He felt betrayed, and in a way, lied to. He felt like Dean wasn't the brother he always thought he was. But, now, he sees how wrong that way of thinking was. Now he sees that Dean is everything he always thought he was, and more.

He sees that his brother is stronger than he could have ever imagined. He realized just how much he protected him, kept him from knowing the truth about so many things that would have hurt him. He realized how much his big brother sacrificed, how much pain and heartache he went through just for him.

A tear dripped down the side of his face as he sat in the chair. He was leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his chin supported by his hands, as he watched the restlessness in his brother's sleep. He watched the strongest man he knew struggle with trying to keep the strength he's always had, the control he never seemed to lose.

Another tear slipped out as he realized his brother would always protect him from more than the monsters in the night, or the abusive hands of their dad. He would protect him from the heartaches and pain felt by others. He would protect him from seeing the horrors of the world, the horrors that Dean knew all too well but Sam was just beginning to see.

He knew, no matter what horrors the world would throw their way, as long as him and Dean were together, it would all be okay.


	77. Chapter 77

**CHAPTER 77**

" _Daddy, why can't you stay just one more night?"_

" _Because, Dean, you know I have a job to do. And, so do you."_

" _Take care of Sammy, I know." Dean replied as he looked over at the sleeping toddler on the motel bed._

 _Dean dropped his head, it wasn't normal for Dean to want his dad to stay so badly. He may only be six years old, but he was far from a normal six-year-old. He was practically grown. He had gotten used to his dad being gone, used to his new roll of taking care of Sammy, but something this time was different. He had to fight back a tear that threatened to escape. He sniffled it back, making sure his eyes were dry, before he turned toward his dad again._

" _I'll only be gone for four or five days." John continued, ignoring the heartache that was seeping from his son. "I've checked the salt lines on the window, make sure you replace the one in front of the door when I leave. Lock the door, keep the curtains closed, there should be enough diapers and food to last the both of you until I get back. Don't let anyone in for any reason. Under no circumstance do you leave this room. The room is paid up for a week. And, most importantly –"_

" _Take care of Sammy." Dean completed his dad's sentence._

 _With a nod his dad walked out the door. He treated Dean like a soldier and expected him to act like one too. Emotions weren't allowed in the world they lived. Emotions only got you killed._

 _Dean quickly locked the locks and straightened the salt line. It was morning, but the sun hadn't found its strength to wake up yet. Dean yawned and laid back down beside his baby brother. He let a sad tear trickle from the corner of his eye and land on the pillow beneath his head. With a hardened heart he allowed his eyes to drift closed. He knew it wouldn't be long before his brother woke and his job of caring for him would begin again. Days locked in a motel room always made the toddler restless. And, once again before falling asleep, he prayed to anyone who would listen to let his mom come back._

 _When he opened his eyes to the noises he heard, it wasn't his baby brother, but a monster. He wasn't able to clear his vision enough to see what monster it was. It didn't really matter. It sounded close and like a wild beast. He could hear hard breathing and snarling. He felt the drool drip from the monster's mouth and land on his cheek._

 _Dean reached up, trying to clear his eyes, but found they were swollen shut, only able to open a sliver of the way, leaving his world looking fuzzy. He realized, or rather felt like, he had been severely beaten. His entire body hurt, he could feel the weight of the creature above him._ He _was confused, scared. He didn't know what was going on. His teenage mind couldn't seem to wrap around the events he woke to._

 _A loud gunshot. His dad's voice._

" _Boy! What the hell is wrong with you? Are you trying to get yourself killed?"_

 _He couldn't answer. He was still trying to catch his breath, trying to let what he had woken to sink in. He wasn't even sure what had happened._

 _There was a sharp feeling in his side, like a hit or kick into his ribs. Screaming, lots of screaming. It sounded like his dad, then his voice started to mix with other voices. He could no longer understand what the words being screamed were or figure out who was screaming at him. He could only feel additional sharp pains from what seemed to be someone, or something, beating him._

 _Punch after punch to his already beaten body. Fists slammed into his face and head until darkness took the place of consciousness._

 _Dean tried to open his eyes, but he couldn't. He felt like they were stuck closed, stitched, glued, maybe both, he wasn't sure. His head was spinning and confused._

" _Sammy!" Dean's adult voice screamed out._

 _He realized, quickly, that he was no longer being restrained by a monster, or beaten by some unseen force. He was free. Free to move around. He reached up and felt his eyes, there was what felt like the ends of string poking out. Stitches. He was sure of that now. He needed to find his brother. He needed help to get the stitches out._

 _He stumbled around in the dark, feeling for anything he could find. His hands finally connected with what felt like and uneven, rocky wall. He ran his hands up and down, feeling that it was probably a wall that went from floor to ceiling, of course there was no way to tell how tall the ceiling was. There was a chill in the air, a dampness that reached to his bones._

 _He shivered as he suddenly realized he wasn't wearing anything but the skin he was born in. There was an ache that filled his body, like he had been beat and raped for what felt like ages. It was an ache on top of an ache. His stomach cramped from what felt like constant abuse to his_ _insides. All of his muscles twitched and trembled from the exhaustion that filled them. He moved his hands down the wall as he stumbled over the uneven ground that his feet stood on. He stumbled over lose rocks and hit his toes on sharp edges._

" _Sammy!"_

 _He shouted again. His voice echoing through the space around him, almost as if he was in a deep cave, underground._

 _His hands traced the wall as he stumbled through the area, trying to find his way out. He fell, slamming his knees into the rocks, as he stumbled off what seemed to be some type of step. He pushed himself up and moved on, unsure of where he was going or even where he had come from. He splashed through a small stream of water and the sharpness of the ground cut the souls of his feet as he moved down the wall through the darkness. He continued to call out for his brother as the fear raised through him._

 _He tried to push the fear away, knowing it wasn't allowed. He had always been taught that emotions would get you killed. But, no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the fear seemed to grow with the seconds that passed._

" _Dean!"_

 _He heard Sam calling for him._

" _Sammy? Sammy!"_

 _Panic had fully set in and he was close to hyperventilating with fear._

 _He could feel the blood running down the palms of his hands from sliding across the rocky walls. He could feel the sharpened pain prick at the souls of his feet. He could feel the tenderness of his body as the icy cold shook through him. Wet from the small streams of water, the chill only made him colder, more desperate for salvation._

" _Dean, hey. Oh my god, are you okay?"_

" _I… I don't know. Sammy. I don't know what's going on."_

" _It's okay, Dean. It'll be okay."_

" _Sammy, help me, please."_

" _It's okay. Just stay calm."_

" _I can't see. Help me, please! Help me see."_

" _Calm down, it's okay."_

 _He couldn't figure out why his brother wouldn't help him see, why couldn't he just open his eyes for him? Suddenly, Dean felt long scale covered fingers grip his shoulders, the razor-sharp claws dug deep into his skin. The oversized palm pressed against his shoulder blades hard_ _enough they threatened to pop them out of place. This creature had come from behind him._

 _Dean jumped as his breath hitched, causing the claws to dig further in him, releasing a small cry of shocked pain._

" _Sam?" Concern and fear laced his voice._

" _It's okay, Dean. Whatever is going to happen. Just relax."_

 _Dean could feel what felt like a body covered in ice cold leather skin pressed against his back. One of the claw filled hands moved from his shoulder and raked across his chest, leaving what felt like slices in his skin as it moved toward his waist and down his crotch, grasping the area into his hand, squeezing until the cry of pain escaped Dean's lips._

 _He could feel the creature hardening behind him as it threatened to enter his body._

" _Sammy, please." Dean begged out._

" _It's okay. Calm down. It's all going to be okay. I'm right here."_

 _Dean could feel Sam's hand touch his arm for comfort. Was he really there, waiting, watching? He was allowing the creature to attack him._

 _Dean screamed out in pain as it felt like a bite was taken out of his shoulder. He could feel the blood pour down his bare chest and back. Dean raised his hands, clawing at his eyes, trying to pull apart the stitches that held them together._

 _Sam's hands grabbed onto his, pulling them away from his eyes, keeping a tight hold on him. He was keeping him from being able to see what was going on, keeping him from being able to protect himself. He tried to fight against him but his brother was too strong against his weakened, fear-stricken body._

" _Dean, don't, man." Sam tried to calm him. "Don't scratch at your eyes. It's okay. Just open them, it's okay."_

" _Sammy, I can't open them."_

" _You have to fight against it, force them open."_

" _I can't. It'll tear the stitches, tear my eyes."_

" _Do what you have to."_

" _Sammy?"_

 _Dean's tone was pleading for him to not make him do this. He wanted nothing more than his brother to help him._

 _He couldn't remember if this was the way it had always been. If Sam had always just stood back and watched him get hurt, always pushed him to do things the hard way, the painful way. It would be so much easier if Sam would just help, but instead he was holding Dean down. He was keeping him from the easy way of doing what he was being ordered to do._

 _Suddenly the creature behind him pushed his overly large self deep inside of Dean. Dean screamed out a painful scream that echoed through the cold, damp walls of the cave. What was it? It didn't feel like_ a penis, not a human one anyhow. It was like a hard leather that felt _like it had little spikes that tore small slits as it pumped in and out of him. The ice coldness of the creature filled Dean's body from the inside out._

 _He could feel what felt like blood trickle down his legs. Or, maybe it was just body fluids that mixed between him and this creature? But, Winchester luck would have it be blood, Dean knew that. He also knew he had probably already lost a lot of it. Maybe this is the way he would go? The end of him? He would bleed to death being raped by a creature he couldn't even see while his brother held him down._

" _Make it stop, please. NO!" Dean cried out. All dignity, all strength quickly escaping him._

" _It's okay. Let it happen. Learn from it."_

 _Sam's voice sounded weird, almost like a mixture of more than one person at the same time._

" _You'll learn to like this, learn to be more obedient."_

 _That time it sounded nothing like Sam's voice, but it was still his hands holding Dean's down._

 _He fought against the feelings that he couldn't see. He fought against the hands that touched him, that held him still. He was sure there were moments he could feel more hands touching him, covering his body, but then they would quickly fade and disappear._

" _Dean! Stop fighting, just relax it's going to be okay."_

 _That was definitely Sam's voice._

" _Shhh, I'm right here. It's okay, I'm here, you're_ _safe. It's okay."_

 _How could Sam possibly be telling him that? How could he just sit there, or stand there, or whatever he was doing, and watch him be attacked, be hurt like never before. How could he expect him to calm down? How could he be telling him that everything was okay? That he was safe, and what difference did it make if he was there or not if he was only going to allow this creature to continue to hurt him?_

 _He was sure at some point he had stopped breathing, only fear and pain filled his lungs, soon it would overtake his heart too, he knew it would. He knew this was it, this was going to be the end of him. He only wished he knew why. Why was Sammy allowing this? He wasn't only allowing it, he was helping it. Why?_

Sam sat in the chair watching his brother's restless sleep. His breathing increased, his arms started flailing as if he was trying to fight something off.

"S'mmy" Dean mumbled in his sleep.

Sam was instantly out of the chair and on the bed beside his brother.

"Hey, Dean, oh my god, are you okay?" Sam's voice filled the air with concern. Dean didn't reply, he remained locked in his own mind.

"It's okay, Dean, it's okay." Sam tried to comfort his brother as he fought off whatever demons plagued his dreams.

"H'lp mmmme" Dean mumbled so low that Sam could barely hear or understand him.

"It's okay. Just stay calm." Sam stroked his brother's forehead, wiping off the beads of sweat that started soaking the edges of his hair.

"Please." Dean pleaded in an almost whisper.

"Calm down, it's okay." Sam's heart was breaking as his brother pleaded for his help while he slept.

Dean jumped, releasing a cry of pain. He started trying to fight against an invisible force that was obviously hurting him in some way.

"It's okay, Dean. Whatever's happening, just relax."

He pushed his hands against his own crotch, like he was pushing someone away. Sam's heart sunk as he realized that someone was sexually assaulting his brother in his dreams.

"Sammy, please." Dean begged for his brother's help.

"It's okay. Calm down. It's all going to be okay. I'm right here."

Sam rubbed his hand over Dean's arm, trying to comfort him and calm his dreams. Dean suddenly screamed out in a painful cry as he started to fight harder against the empty air around him. His face crumpled into the expression of pain that matched his screams. He reached up and clawed at his own eyes, leaving blood lines where his nails dug into his face and eyelids.

Sam quickly reached up and grabbed Dean's hands, pulling them away from his face. Dean fought against him, but he knew this was one time, for Dean's safety, he had to hold Dean's hands down, keep him from injuring himself.

"Dean, don't, man." Sam tried to calm him. "Don't scratch at your eyes. It's okay. Just open them, it's okay."

Dean continued to struggle against his brother's hold

"You have to fight against it." Sam tried to give his brother the strength he needed.

John and Bobby entered the room after Dean's scream. Sam looked up at the two of them, searching for guidance, for strength to help his brother through this.

"He won't wake up." Sam whispered as his brother cried out loud and tried to pull his hands free.

"You're going to have to try to force him." John sighed.

"He needs to force his eyes open, to see reality, in order to stop this nightmare from consuming him." Bobby suggested.

"How?" Sam questioned as his eyes filled with tears while he looked down at his brother.

Bobby shrugged. "Do what you have to."

Sam drew in a deep breath, releasing a sigh that was mixed with heartache and anger. Not anger toward Dean, not this time. This time the anger was directed at the monsters, human or not, that created the nightmare that Dean was fighting.

Suddenly, without warning, Dean arched his back, his head tilted back and he pulled his hands tight against Sam's as he grasped onto his wrists. The most painful sounding scream flooded the room as Dean couldn't hold the nightmare in his head anymore. It had become too big, too scary, too painful. He didn't have room to hold it anymore and it became part of his reality, part of the outside world. Tears streamed from his tightly closed eyes as the cries of pain sunk deep into the hearts of those around him.

"S'mmy. Make it stop." Dean pleaded through the cries. "Please." He added before another painful scream exited his lips, mixed with the simple drawn out word. "NOOOO!" Filled the empty spaces in the air around them.

"It's okay." Sam was desperate to calm his brother's painful fears.

"Sometimes, you just gotta let it happen." Bobby sighed as he placed his hand on Sam's shoulder.

"Why?" Sam whispered through the tears.

"So, he can learn from it. So, his mind can remember what its forgotten. Sometimes that's the only way. Doesn't mean he's gotta like it, doesn't mean we gotta like it, but if that's what it takes then with time he'll learn to accept it, learn to get used to it."

"Like an obedient little soldier?" Sam's voice was filled with frustration and anger. "Obedient to his own nightmares."

John and Bobby both sighed. "If that's what it takes to get him back, to get Dean back to being Dean, then yes." John spoke up. "He'll learn to be obedient to whatever his nightmares are wanting. Then, he'll learn to fight against it and show it what a Winchester can really do."

Dean continued to struggle. He continued to fight against Sam's hold. Sam started getting frustrated. Started wanting nothing more than his brother to wake up, to be okay. He wanted his dad and Bobby to shut up. He knew they were right, but he didn't want to admit it, not now, not while his brother was in so much distress.

"Dean! Stop fighting, just relax it's going to be okay." Sam's voice was filled with more anger than he meant to show and quickly softened it. "Shhh, I'm right here. It's okay, I'm here, you're safe. It's okay."

Dean stilled for a moment before pushing against Sam's hold again. He needed to get away. He did what he had to. He pried his eyes opened. In his dream, he had torn the stitches and skin from his eye lids and they flew open with a loud painful scream.

The first thing he saw was Sam, the first thing he felt was his hands being held down. He hadn't realized his dream and reality were two different things. He struggled against Sam's hold.

"Sammy. Please." He begged, only this time it was with his eyes open. The expression on his face was desperate to get away from whatever he was afraid of.

"It's okay, Dean. It's okay. It was just a dream." Sam tried to soothe him before releasing his grip on his brother's hands. "It's okay. You're safe. Whatever it was, it's gone now. It was just a bad dream."

He continued to reassure him as Dean pushed himself away from his brother, away from the person who had just held him down during the worst rape he could remember.

Dean retreated back to the far corner of the bed. His body shaking as much as his breath. He curled himself into a ball tightly, trying to escape what ever was hurting him. He reached up and was surprised to feel his eyelids still intact. There were scratches that had dried beads of blood on them, but nothing like he had expected. He was sure he tore his eyes apart as he opened them.

His teeth chattered with the shivers that raked through his body. His jaw trembled as hard as his hands. His knees pulled tightly against his chest. He hadn't become fully aware of his surroundings, hadn't separated reality from his dream.

"Dean, hey." Sam tried to soothe his brother again. "Look at me, please."

Dean, with obvious fear and uncertainty, looked over at his brother.

"It was just a dream. A really, really, bad dream. You're safe now, it's over. We're at Bobby's and everything is going to be okay." Sam paused as Dean's gazed drifted from Sam. "You hear me?"

Dean didn't answer.

Sam grabbed a cover and moved toward Dean. Dean jumped and with a gasp wide eyes stared at his brother, surprised by the touch of the cover.

"Here." Sam said as he tucked it around the shaking form of his older brother. "It'll help you feel more comfortable." He gave a quick reassuring smile as Dean's head lowered again.

Dean jumped against the wall, trying to push himself further away, as Sam reached out and lightly grasped Dean's chin, pulling his head up so his eyes would meet his own.

"Hey, it's okay. You hear me? You're okay. Whatever it was, it's over now. Look around you." Sam moved Dean's head slightly so he didn't have a choice but to look around him.

"See? We're in Bobby's room. Remember?" Sam paused waiting to see if Dean would be able to remember.

"You wanted to stay in here tonight. You feel more comfortable in here right now. So, Bobby let you take his room tonight. See." Sam pointed toward the other two men in the room. "There's Bobby and Dad."

Dean looked over at them, crinkling his forehead in confusion. Again, he rubbed at his eyes, making sure he hadn't torn them off. He turned his eyes back to his brother.

"Sammy?" Dean whispered in a voice that sounded like it hadn't been used in years, mixed with the sound that it had been over used and dried up.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm right here."

"Is… is it gone?" Dean whispered.

"Yeah, Dean, it's gone. It was never here to begin with, only in your dreams."

Dean pulled his hand out from under the cover he was holding tightly around him. He ran a shaky hand down his face. "I… I don't… I don't know what's going on." He admitted.

God, when had Dean ever sounded so defeated? When had he so openly admitted that something was wrong, that he didn't know what to do. Sam couldn't help but feel a pain in his heart with the tone in his brother's words.

"It's okay." Sam barely whispered past the lump in his throat. "It was just a dream. It may have been about stuff that really happened, but it's not happening right now. And, it didn't just happen a moment ago. Right now, that's all that matters. Okay?"

Dean nodded his head as his fear filled eyes filled with unshed tears.

"It's going to be okay. We'll get through this. You'll get through this. It will all be okay. You'll see."

Sam pressed himself against the wall beside his brother, allowing Dean's trembling body to slump against his side. He knew right now that would be the only contact Dean would be comfortable with, and Sam was okay with that. He would take this moment of peaceful silence over the painful screams of his brother any time.

"It will all be okay." Sam repeated in a near whisper as he looked up at his dad and Bobby and a tear dripped down his cheek.


	78. Chapter 78

**CHAPTER 78**

"I know." Sam sounded so defeated. "I just can't keep doing this, not on my own."

"No one ever said you had to do anything on your own."

"Oh, really? Because the way I've seen it, you sure as hell haven't been there to help. You've never been there! For as long as I can remember you've never been there!" Sam's tone went from being defeated to being right down pissed off. His voice raised from a silent calm to a raging storm.

"Damn, boy. Calm down, would'a?"

"Calm down? Calm down?" Sam pushed the kitchen chair away from the table as he stood in a huff. "I haven't slept in 2 days, I've been overly stressed and ALONE!" He filled the last word with as much emphasis as he could.

"You've never been alone. I've been here too, damn it."

"Yeah, sure, you've been here. I'll give you that. But, tell me, what the hell have you done to help? Huh? What the hell have you done besides make everything worse?"

"GUYS!" Dean's frustrated voice silenced the disagreement.

Sam and John had been sitting at the table, John with a glass of whiskey and Sam with a cup of coffee. They seemed to already be working toward an argument as Dean slowly made his way down the stairs. He had woken from another nightmare, only this one wasn't near as bad, and had been a silent one. His body ached from laying in bed too long and he had to use the bathroom.

As he made his way to the toilet he could hear voices coming from downstairs. As he descended the stairs he recognized them as being his brother and dad. It didn't take long for the conversation to turn and for Sam to blame John for something. And, of course, John had to defend himself. It was a normal occurrence in the Winchester family.

Dean made his way to the kitchen doorway without either of them noticing. He leaned against the doorframe, exhausted from the small walk across the house. He didn't want to listen to this. He didn't want to see his brother and dad arguing. As much as he hated to admit it, and he never would of course, but, he needed them. He needed them both right now. He didn't need them arguing. He needed them to help take care of him.

God, what Dean wouldn't give to just have a moment that he could allow himself to be selfish. That he could allow himself to really tell everyone what he wanted, what he needed. But, he couldn't. That would only show weakness. And, Dean Winchester was not weak.

Both the men started to instantly stand, to rush to Dean's side. Instead of allowing either to help him, he waved his hand and pushed them away.

"I'm not an ivalid." Dean grumbled

"Oh, really?" John's voice was full of sarcasm. "Have you seen yourself lately?"

"Dad!" Sam's sharp warning burned through Dean's ears.

Sam wasn't supposed to be protecting Dean, not from their dad, that was his job. His job was to protect Sammy, not Sammy protecting him. Dean moved as far away from the door frame as he could before he had to let go of the support it was giving him. Quickly, as soon as he was within reaching distance, he grabbed the back of one of the chairs for support.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dean questioned once he could feel the safety of the chair beneath his grip.

John just huffed and sat back in his seat. He tilted back the last of his whiskey in one long swig. Dean carefully made his way into a seated position in the chair.

"How you feeling?" Sam's voice had softened from the way he was speaking to their dad.

"Like I've been run over by a train." He sighed as he rubbed his hands down his face.

"Yeah, you look like it too."

"Not like you look much better."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

There was a silence as John clinked the whiskey bottle against his glass, filling it once again.

"Kinda early to be drinking like that ain't it?" Dean questioned, noticing his dad's weary, exhausted look.

"Damn it, Dean." John's voice came out more harsh than he had intended, but it was to be expected with the alcohol he had poured into himself already.

John's harsh tone caused Dean to startle and jump slightly. He crinkled his face in confusion.

"It's not early. It's late." John sighed.

Dean looked over at Sam then back at his dad. "What time is it?"

"Don't know." John replied. "Doesn't matter."

"Then…" Dean was overly confused by his dad's words. "How do you know it's late?"

"Because, Dean, while you've been sleeping, we've been awake, for days. With little rest. Taking care of you. Chasing away whatever the hell type of monster or demon showed up in your dreams."

John downed half the glass, allowing the burning sensation to fill the space his words had just poured from.

Dean looked back at Sam, confused.

Sam raised his brows, he wasn't even sure what to say to that. It was true. But, he figured their dad could have found a better way to say it. But, then again, it wouldn't exactly be their dad if he said anything nicely.

"Days?" Dean asked Sam.

"Yeah."

"How… how long… have I… uh… been asleep?" Dean wasn't even sure what had happened over the days his dad was talking about. He said he was sleeping, but they weren't. But, it's not like he remembers sleeping.

"Nothing. Don't worry about it. Dad's just tired." Sam dropped his head, knowing Dean wouldn't just drop it, but he hoped he would.

"Right. That's why Dad's so pissed?" Dean glanced from his brother to his dad and back to his brother. "Did I do something wrong?" He glanced back at each of them as he asked.

"No." Sam was quick to reply.

"Like your brother said, it was nothing, don't worry about it." Was John's reply as he finished the freshly poured glass.

"If it was nothing you wouldn't be so pissed."

"Damn, Dean! Why the hell can't you just shut the hell up? Just drop shit, for once! I said it was nothing, and that's damn well what I meant!"

John's anger and voice grew with each word he spoke. "Besides, at this point, I've gotten used to you acting reckless, running out on us, practically getting yourself killed, leaving us to pick up the damn pieces!"

"Sorry, sir."

Dean sat in shock. He hadn't expected his dad to get so angry. Dean dropped his head. His voice low and cracked. He couldn't remember much at this point. It was like he was still trying to wake up to life again and hadn't been able to get his mind to straighten everything out yet.

All he wanted was for everything to be okay. Right now, he couldn't figure out how to do that. He couldn't even figure out exactly what was going on, exactly what needed to be okay.

"Dean, you don't have anything to be sorry for." It was too obvious that Sam was trying harder to convince his dad than Dean.

Dean just sighed.

"Yeah, nothing to be sorry for." John repeated sarcastically.

"Right." Dean mumbled.

John slammed his fist against the table, abruptly shoving his chair so hard it fell backwards. Dean jumped from the instant startle. His body stiffened and his breath stopped.

"Dad?" Sam was hesitant to even speak.

"I'm sick of this shit!" John shouted.

Dean didn't dare move. Too many years of training taught him not to respond when his dad was drunk and acting this way. John stumbled in front of Dean, grasping a handful of the front of his shirt, pulling his chest forward so his face was almost touching his. He kept his breath as still as his body. No matter how much he was trembling on the inside, he would never allow it to show.

"When the hell you gonna straighten up?" John's words slurred in Dean's face. "When you gonna learn how to be a man again? Act right?"

Dean swallowed hard, he knew not to speak, not yet, his dad wasn't done with what he had to say.

"I need my damn son back, not some little girl! Those damn nightmares of yours, they need to stop NOW! And, you need to take care of your damn job again. Your brother's about to push my last button, take care of him."

John shoved Dean back against his chair and threw his hand in Sam's direction. A clear indication that he was telling Dean his job was to take care of Sammy and he had been failing at it.

"I…" Dean paused. He wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to say he was sorry, but wasn't sure what he was sorry for, what he had done, what his dad was talking about.

"God, Dean. Back to stuttering again?"

"I'm sorry, sir. But, I don't know… I'm not sure what's going on."

"Did you wake up dumb?"

"JOHN!" Bobby's voice thundered through the room.

John turned to look at his old friend. Dean clearly jumped with the loud thunder, Sam startled and turned toward Bobby.

"That's enough." Bobby added once he knew he had John's attention.

"Who do you think you are?" John growled.

"Leave the boy alone. I think it's time for you to go sleep this off."

John grabbed Dean's ear and pulled his head to the side. Dean didn't fight against him.

"I'll do whatever I damn well please. These are my boys and you're not gonna tell me what I can and can't do to them!"

John pulled on Dean hard enough to pull him off the chair and onto his knees on the floor. He looked up at his dad with confused, broken eyes.

"Hmm… on your knees, just the way you like it." John sounded almost amused at the situation.

"Dad?" Dean sounded like he was pleading for his dad to stop, without actually saying the words.

"I can't take this anymore!" John growled as he shoved Dean the rest of the way to the floor, his head bouncing off the unforgiving hardness beneath him. "I gotta get the hell out of here!"

"Then go!" Sam spit out in anger. "Go, and don't ever come back!"

John kicked Dean's side, hard. He released a slight moan that he had tried to suppress with the pain.

"DAD!"

"JOHN!"

Sam and Bobby both shouted at him at the same time.

"Dean's going with me." John stated as he reached down, grabbing a handful of hair, he pulled Dean to his feet.

Once he had released him, and Dean was safely standing, he slowly backed away from his dad, toward Bobby. He knew Bobby could, and would, protect him.

John chuckled. "Everything I've done for you, and this is the way it is, huh?"

"You're drunk." Dean spoke softly.

"So."

"So, you need to go sleep it off."

"You scared?"

"Of what?"

"Me."

"No, sir."

"Then why are you backing away?"

Dean paused his movement. "It's called being cautious, making sure you have control of your surroundings, that you stay safe. It's smarts, not fear."

John let out a full belly laugh. "Think you're smart do you?"

"No, not really."

"Good."

Sam rolled his eyes. "He is smart!"

"No one asked you!" John snapped at Sam.

Adjusting his attention back to Dean. "You want me to leave?"

"I want you to go sleep this off, and be our dad again."

"Again? When the hell was I ever your damn dad?"

"Since the day I was born."

John stumbled from the table toward Dean. Bobby moved and Dean stretched his hand out to stop him. John stumbled until he was in front of Dean. He reached out to grab onto his son and missed. Dean grabbed John to keep him from falling.

"Go sleep it off." Dean ordered.

"Whatever." John was done arguing.

He tried to stumble away, toward the stairs, but it only took one step to realize he would never make it alone. Without even giving it a thought, Dean grabbed onto his dad and started helping him across the house. It was muscle memory, it didn't take any thought process. He had helped his dad through a drunken night several times in his life. So many times there were no ways of keeping track of them.

"Dean." Sam tried to stop his brother, but in normal Dean fashion he ignored his brother and continued to help their dad.

Their walk up the stairs proved to be a challenge. John stumbled over the steps, almost causing them both to fall down the stairs. Dean was still in a weakened state which made this task more difficult than it should have been.

"I'm sorry, Dean." John slurred

"It's okay, Dad."

"You've always been a good son." John's drunken hand grabbed the front of Dean's shirt, causing his body to lean and Dean had to adjust under the shift of his dad's weight.

"Okay." Dean knew his dad well enough to know he would be stuttering drunk until he was able to lay him in bed.

"I'm serious, Dean. You… you and Sam… you're good boys." John let his body sway, leaving Dean to adjust to his weight again. "You didn't deserve a deadbeat dad like me. You… you dd… dessssserved better."

"Okay, Dad."

"Dean, listen… shhhh… listen to… to mme."

"I am."

Again, Dean shifted their weight, thankful they reached the last step.

"Dean. You're not lll…listening to me." John shifted so he was standing in front of Dean. He grasped two handfuls of Dean's shirt, causing him to lose his balance. If not for his dad's grasp he would have fallen down the stairs. His feet teetered on the edge of the step.

"Dad?" Dean's voice was laced in fear. It would only take his dad to release his grip to make Dean tumble down the stairs.

"Dean. I'm sorry. You hear me? I'm sorry."

"I know, Dad."

"I…I made your life a living hell."

"No. You didn't."

"I'm sorry, son." John pulled Dean from the ledge and held him tight against his chest.

"It's okay, Dad." Dean adjusted himself so he was able to gain his balance and take on his dad's weight against him. "Come on, let's go lay down."

"Dean." John rested a serious gaze on his oldest son's eyes. "I never treated you right. I… I let you down."

"It's okay, Dad." Dean tried to stop him from rambling.

"You always say that. You always say it's okay."

"Because it is." Dean was growing exhausted and slightly irritated. He started to push his dad into movement.

"I… I never meant for you to become a fagot."

"I'm not."

Dean knew his dad's words were just drunken slurs, but it didn't keep them from stinging deep inside. But, he knew there was no point in trying to reason with a drunk John Winchester.

"I'm sure you've been with more guys than you have girls."

John's body swayed, making it harder for Dean to hold him upright.

"I don't know."

"Oh, come on, you can tell your old man."

"Dad." Dean's voice held a touch of warning, hoping he would just drop the subject matter.

"Is it good?"

"Dad!" Dean was shocked at his words.

"If you keep… you keep going back… to them, then they gotta be good."

John's words slurred and his body swayed. Dean lost his balance. He tried to hold his dad up, to grab him, but they both ended up tumbling to the ground. Dean hit with a grunt, twisting his body to catch his dad's fall. John landed on top of Dean. His weight reminding Dean of how weak his body still was.

Dean leaned his head backwards, against the floor, and tried to catch the breath that had just been knocked out of him. John laughed a little, of course Dean didn't find anything funny in it, but he wasn't drunk like his dad was.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Come on, lets get you to bed before you're too drunk to get up."

He tried to push his dad off him, but he had obviously exhausted himself with helping his dad as much as he had. His hands started trembling as he tried to push against John, but he didn't budge.

John laughed again. "You… you meant to do that, didn't you?" A mischievous smile filled John's face. "You." He pointed his finger at his son. "Wanted me on top of you."

"What! No, I didn't! You're the one who's drunk and stumbling. I'm just trying to get you to bed. Now get off me!"

John chuckled again. "You couldn't wait till we got to bed?"

"That's not what I meant." A flood of emotions and memories filled his head. His breathing became harsh as the tears poked at the back of his eyes. Anxiety built from somewhere deep inside. "Dad…" Dean's voice was shaking and pleading. "Please get up."

"You're too good for me? Is that it? I'm not good enough for you?"

"You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

"You just gotta show off, don't you? Think you know it all! Well… well lemme tell you… you don't know jack shit!" John spit in his son's face as the words rolled from his tongue.

"Dad. Please."

Dean felt like his chest was going to explode. He was sure the trembling that was on the inside had seeped out and was causing his body to shake. He kept telling himself to hold it together, to just stay calm. This was his dad, he wasn't going to do anything. He wouldn't hurt him. But, he had. He had hurt him, before, when he was possessed by whatever ancient creature that was. His dad had hurt him. Raped him. Forced Dean into something he didn't even know was happening.

A sharp sting across the side of his face. A loud smacking sound that jolted him from his thoughts. From the waking nightmare. He hadn't realized he had started to have a full blown panic attack.

"I get it, damn! You don't have to be so fucking dramatic!" John huffed as he tried to push himself off his son.

In the process, his hand pressed hard against Dean's chest. His knee pushed into his stomach. His body brushed between his legs. But, Dean was frozen. He couldn't move. He couldn't stop his dad from hurting him. He was too drunk to stand on his own and Dean couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't even manage to cry for help.

"What the hell is going on up here?" Bobby's voice broke through the darkness that was spinning around Dean.

He hadn't noticed he zoned out, again. He hadn't noticed his dad's body was laying completely on top of him. His legs spread slightly. John's thigh against his crotch, pushing against him slightly. He could feel the hardness in his dad's pants. The drunken erection he had gotten from laying on him. John's growl of annoyance told Dean that Bobby had interrupted whatever his dad was trying to do.

John dropped his head on Dean's chest. "Couldn't get back up." He slurred. "Dean couldn't hold his own damn weight."

"Oh, I'm sure Dean could hold his own weight, it was your drunken ass he couldn't hold." Bobby muttered as he pulled John from Dean's stiff body.

"Let's get your ass in your bed so you can sleep this shit off." Bobby's voice was rough, but he didn't look at John as he spoke. He looked at Dean. There was a lightness in his eyes that didn't match the heaviness of his words.

He didn't ask Dean if he was okay. He didn't tell him to stay put or get up. He didn't speak anything to him. Only to John. He wanted his attention completely away from his son. He was a lot rougher than Dean was as he pushed and forced John down the hall and into his room. He practically threw him onto the bed.

"Don't come out until you've slept this completely off." Bobby warned before slamming the door.

He instantly turned to look at Dean, still on the floor. He had managed to push himself into a seated position against the wall. But, Bobby turned in time to see the startled jump from Dean's body as the door was slammed. He saw his hands shake as he fought to hold himself together. His body trembled under the memories and floods of emotions.

Bobby knelt beside Dean. "You alright boy?"

Dean just nodded.

"You with me?"

Dean just looked at Bobby, unsure of what he meant. Unsure of where he was supposed to be, or not be.

"I'll take that as a no." Bobby sighed. How the hell could he even make this okay. How could he make Dean believe something he couldn't?


	79. Chapter 79

**CHAPTER 79**

Small bits of pictures flashed through Dean's head. He was tied, hands above his head, then just as quickly, he was tied to a metal table. The pain stabbed through him as the images changed. He was on the floor, feeling like he just wanted to sink into it. A kid, a teen, an adult. The images changed with his age as well.

He was on his knees. Feeling choked. Being choked. Then, restrained to a mattress, a floor. His eyes covered, stitches in them. The pain radiated into a headache as he could sense the demons in his images. The demons as they attacked him, quickly changing to another image. He was happy. He was sad. He was hurt. He was scared. His dad was there. Sam was there. Bobby was there. He was alone. He was surrounded by strangers.

His head swam. The images were making him dizzy, nauseated. His stomach turned with the blood that flashed before him. Another image, more blood. Another image, different blood, different injuries, different pain.

The monsters he had hunted. The faces of the ones he couldn't save. He was hurt from a hunt. His dad was hurt. Sam was hurt. It was light, then dark. Pitch black. Hands, touching him, pulling on him, forcing him. He couldn't breathe. His heart was going to beat from his chest. The hands now pulled on him, on his arms, his body.

He released the contents of his stomach as he felt his knees hit the hard ground. His head swam, dizziness mixed with the nausea. His body shook. There were sounds. They were close. He recognized them. Voices. Words. He didn't understand. He couldn't understand.

"Dean? Hey, kiddo, I need you to come back to me." Bobby softly shook his shoulders with a gentle grasp.

Dean's breathing was sporadic. It changed from being too fast to desperate gasps.

Sam stood at the top of the stairs, silently watching the scene before him. He didn't speak, but didn't hesitate to help Bobby as he tried to get Dean off the floor. They both grabbed an arm and lifted him from the seated position he had been in.

His knees shook, his body weak and motionless. His mind a million miles away, in another time and place. Suddenly, he started to vomit as his body dropped back to the floor, his knees slamming into the unforgiving floorboards as his stomach emptied in front of him.

"Dean?" Sam's voice had pulled him slightly from the brink of his memories.

Dean reached out a shaking hand and started blindly feeling the air around him, trying to find his brother.

"I'm right here." Sam guided Dean's hand and rested it on his shoulder.

"Sssam?" Dean's voice shook. His mind cleared enough he could recognize his brother's voice. He still was unsure of the words that the sounds formed, but it was his brother, that he was sure of. That meant he was safe, or soon would be.

"Yeah, it's me. I'm right here."

"Dddd… don't hurt me. Please." It was far too obvious his begging was coming from a different place in his mind. He drifted between the present and someplace he didn't want to be.

"I'm not going to hurt you."

"Pppromise?"

"Yeah, of course." Sam moved closer to his brother as Dean leaned his head against Sam's chest. "I got you." Sam reassured him as his body relaxed.

Dean felt the familiar warmth of his brother. The warmth that brought comfort with it. His mind, still fuzzy, started to clear enough that he knew he was safe. He wasn't completely sure where he was, not yet, but he knew he was safe and right now, that's all that mattered. He could relax, release the images in his head, allow them to fall back into the darkness of his mind.

"Come on, lets get you off this floor." Bobby waited until Dean appeared calmer before speaking into the silence.

"Come on, Dean, lets get up." Sam repeated gently into his brother's hair, noticing he didn't respond to Bobby.

Dean's shaking body followed his brother's command as Bobby and Sam both helped him stand and stumble to Bobby's room. The room that Sam and Dean shared was closest but Bobby knew there was no way Dean would feel comfortable in there right now, so he opted to help him the extra few feet to his room where Dean seemed to feel the safest.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, Sam beside him, and Bobby sat on a stool he had pulled over to be near them. Dean's elbows rested on his knees, his face cradled in his hands. He fought to keep his breathing under control as his heart slowed and his head cleared some more.

"Sorry." He mumbled from within his hands. He had waited until he knew where he was before he had spoken.

"No need to be sorry, boy." Bobby knew Dean couldn't stop his reaction to the memories. He would eventually learn how to handle them better, but right now, he wasn't able to control himself.

"You okay, Dean?" Damn Sam couldn't sound more concerned if he tried.

"Yyyeah… just tttired."

"Wanna tell me what that was all about? What's going through that head of yours right now?" Bobby questioned with so much sympathy and compassion in his voice.

"I…"

Dean sucked in a deep breath, rubbing his hands down his face, he slowly lifted his head out of his hands. He still appeared to be somewhere else, his eyes not able to focus on the surroundings around him. But, he also appeared to be coming back into reality, starting to leave the memories where they belonged.

"I'm not sure." Dean sighed.

His expression was one of desperation. He wanted so badly to understand, he wanted to leave the place he had found himself in, but mostly, he just wanted to sleep.

"What's going through that head of yours?"

Dean shrugged at Bobby's question. "Just… memories… I guess."

"I kinda figured that." Bobby couldn't help but roll his eyes at the stubbornness.

"I mean, like memories of my entire life. I guess? I don't really know. It was just flashes, really quick, like pictures or something. I don't know."

"Any feelings with them?"

He took a moment to look deep into Bobby's eyes before answering, "Yeah."

"Physical or mental?"

"Both."

Bobby nodded. "Not gonna be the only time that happens."

Dean looked away, glanced at his brother who sat quietly beside him, he rested his face in his hands again before lifting his head to look at Bobby. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, it's going to happen again, just like this. Maybe worse, maybe better. But, it'll happen again."

"You don't know that." Dean sighed.

"Yeah, I do. Dean, you've been through a lot lately. I'm not going to go all text book on you, but you've been through a lot of trauma. Not just lately, but your entire life. Sure, the lifestyle you were raised in hasn't helped, but I think your mind and body aren't able to keep it all hidden anymore. You're not able to just shake this off like you normally do. You're going to have to deal with it head on. It's going to take a lot of strength and a lot of courage, but I know you can do it."

"What does that have anything to do with what the hell just happened? It was just because of the way my dad was acting, not all that other mumble jumble stuff."

"Yeah, because you got triggered."

Dean sighed and put his face back in his hands. "I'm too tired to think." He mumbled.

"Dean, look at me."

He didn't hesitate to lift his head and look back at Bobby.

"You're tired because your body just went through a lot. You had a major adrenaline dump and an emotional roller coaster, so now, your body is needing to rest to recoup and recover from it all."

"I'm so confused." Dean admitted.

"Ever heard of PTSD?"

"Yeah, you guys said I had it before, but I'm not some psycho or anything."

Bobby shook his head. "No one said you were. It doesn't mean you're crazy. It's a real thing. I know it can sound cliché and as much as people use it now a days it can seem like something bad. But, trust me, it's very much a real thing, and it can be scary. But, what you just experienced, was a PTSD related flashback."

"I'm not stressed." Dean mumbled through his palms.

Bobby couldn't help but chuckle at that. "No one said you were."

"What you're talking about. It's like some post traumatic stress crap. I'm not stressed."

Dean had raised his head, looking so seriously at Bobby that he couldn't help but let out a small chuckle again.

"It doesn't mean you're stressed."

He couldn't help but shake his head at the innocence of the man in front of him. He was one of the smartest people he knew, and the best hunter he had come across, but when it came to things like this, he was clueless, too innocent, too jaded to know what it means.

"Then, why is it called that?"

"I don't know. Because it is."

"Doesn't make sense."

"It ain't gotta make sense, boy. Forget the name, the point is, you're going to find a lot of things will trigger your flashbacks. Some worse than others. Some things can be simple, like a smell, or you may see something that makes you think of something else, or even a taste, it might just be a quick image or thought that runs through your head then it's gone, or it might be something like what happened tonight, or even worse."

"I don't like this." Dean shook his head as he rested his face in his hands again.

"Yeah, well, it's not gonna be a walk in the park, I guarantee that."

"Life never is." Dean lifted his exhausted head again. "Besides, you never know what kind of monster is hiding and waiting when you take a walk in the park, so that's not a very good analogy."

Bobby shook his head again and Sam let out a small laugh.

"Lay down." Bobby patted Dean on his knee. "Let your body get the rest it needs."

"Finally!" Dean huffed out.

He tightened his muscles to start moving, then paused. His hands were holding onto the edge of the mattress, his toes pointed like his feet were ready to move. His head hung low, his body tilted slightly forward.

Bobby had also started to stand, slowing down his movements when Dean paused. Bobby completed standing, but stood still, watching as Dean didn't move, obviously having thoughts run through his head.

"What is it?" Bobby asked as he placed a gentle hand on Dean's back.

Dean shook his head, he didn't want to ask what was trying to force its way past his tongue. He was so tired of feeling weak. He was tired of being scared. He was tired of not being the strong hunter he had always been. He was tired of being tired.

"Lay back and get you some rest." Bobby spoke, breaking through the thoughts in Dean's head.

"Hhh…here?" Dean stuttered.

"Yeah."

He didn't look up, but Bobby couldn't help but notice the crooked smile on Dean's face.

"Thanks, Bobby."

"You got it." He patted Dean on the back before removing his touch. "Sam and I'll be downstairs if you need anything."

Dean nodded, still not moving. Bobby motioned for Sam to get up and follow him out of the room. Once both men were in the hall, behind the closed door, Dean pushed himself further unto the bed and laid under the covers.

He wrapped himself inside them, trying to give himself the comfort of being hidden from the world. He thought about what Bobby had said, but his mind was still too jumbled to make complete sense out of it. So, he decided to just close his eyes and face whatever may come.

Sam leaned his back against the wall in the hallway, releasing a deep puff of air he had been holding onto tightly. He rubbed his hands down his face before pushing off the wall.

"Come on, lets go downstairs and let your brother sleep." Bobby patted the back of Sam's shoulder, giving him a slight nudge toward the stairs.

Sam didn't fight against Bobby's slight gesture and followed him down the steps. Once he was seated on the couch, Bobby handed him a beer before sitting in the nearby chair and sipping from his own bottle. Sam took the bottle Bobby offered, but found himself lost in thought only staring at the condensation building around his hands.

"What's on your mind?" Bobby knew it had been a long day for all of them and despite the normal brotherly disagreements nothing would be more important to either brother than the other brother.

Sam took a long swig, letting the taste of the alcohol chase away his thoughts. "Is Dean going to be okay?"

The look that Sam's features held reminded Bobby of when he was just a young boy. The innocence, the questions, the need for knowledge, even the fear, it was all there, mixed together on his face.

Bobby took another drink, giving him time to come up with the right words to answer his question. "Don't rightfully know."

Sam's expression was now mixed with one of sorrow and slight confusion.

"Depends on him." Bobby added after taking another drink.

"I don't know." Sam shrugged. "I mean, how can it be up to him if he doesn't even know what he's doing?"

"How so?"

"I mean… He doesn't understand what's even going on with his own head right now. He doesn't realize he reacts to things until afterwards. So, how can it be up to him if he's okay or not if he doesn't even have control over himself?"

Bobby nodded, agreeing with every word the youngest Winchester had said. "Well, depends if he's willing to fight through it. Depends if he's willing to take the time and effort to learn, to understand. Depends if he wants to be his normal hardheaded self and ignore it all, pretend he's okay."

"I don't think he'd be able to do that right now."

"Exactly. If he does, it's gonna come back and bite him in the ass. And, he better hope to god someone is there to catch him when it does. If he don't deal with this now, it's only gonna get worse. But, we can't make him face things. We can't make him want to understand and try to learn how to control himself. That's all up to him."

Sam took another drink and lowered his head. He found his gaze locked back on the bottle in his hands. "I want my brother back." His words were so low, so quiet, Bobby almost didn't hear them.

"I know you do, son. So do I. So do I."

The two sat in the silence of the room, lost in their own thoughts, their own memories.

Sam startled when Bobby had patted his knee. "How about we both get some shut eye?"

Sam hadn't realized a couple hours had passed since he had gotten lost in his thoughts. Bobby pulled the now warm bottle from Sam's hands. Without protest Sam nodded and made his way up the stairs.

"Can we check on Dean?"

"I reckon that'll be alright. But you need to get you some sleep, boy. You're gonna sleep in your bed tonight."

Disappointedly Sam agreed before slipping the door open to make sure his older brother was okay.

Dean was curled into a ball in the middle of the bed. The blankets were wrapped tightly around his body, covering his head like a hood. He faced the door. Sam figured he felt safer being able to see if anyone entered the room. Only his face stuck out from around the covers. His eyes tightly closed.

His face was slightly crinkled, as if he was having a dream he didn't particularly care for, but he didn't seem to be in any real distress. And, Sam had to admit he looked like he was actually getting some decent rest.

He quietly closed the door back and patted his way to his room. Bobby had taken Dean's bed and Sam slipped into his.

"Bobby."

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"You know, for everything. For being there when we've needed you."

"Just doing my job, boy."

"A job you didn't have to do."

"Aww, shucks, you two are like my own boys, there ain't nothing I wouldn't do for either of you. So, no need to thank me."

Sam chuckled a little. "Well then, thanks for not killing Dad."

Bobby chuckled at that as well. "In that case, you've better be thanking me cause it's taken a lot of restraint not to."

"I know."

"Night, Sam."

"Night."

"Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"Dean will be alright. He's got you, and he's got me, and neither of us are going anywhere, so don't you worry. He'll be just fine."

Sam smiled in the darkness. "Thanks."

Bobby just grunted as his reply as he rolled over, trying to make himself comfortable in the small bed. He wondered how Dean and Sam managed to fit in them. He hadn't realized how small a normal bed was, and how big his boys had gotten. He smiled at the thought that even though it was probably tough to get comfortable, they had both sacrificed their own comfort to share the small bed with the other brother when the situation called for it.

With the comforting thoughts of his boys taking care of each other, being there to make sure they were both okay, the darkness had slipped in, turning his thoughts into dreams.

It seemed to take Sam a little longer to fall asleep. He knew if he was by his brother's side he would already be asleep, but it was hard not knowing if he was okay or not. But, he guessed that was the point of Bobby making him sleep in here. To give him a break, to allow him rest instead of worry. Besides, Bobby had left their door open so they could hear if Dean cried out in his sleep.

"Please, be okay." Sam whispered in the darkness. It was intended for Dean, but he was too far away, so the words would have to find their way to him. Eventually exhaustion took over and Sam became oblivious to the fact he was asleep.

Darkness and silence filled the home once again. The same darkness and silence that always seemed to be the calm before the storm.


	80. Chapter 80

**CHAPTER 80**

The sun shone through the cracks around the curtain edges. The warmth of the rays dancing in the light. The quieted sounds of birds happily chirping outside the walls that separated them from the cruel outside world could be faintly heard.

Sam released a large yawn while he fully stretched his body across the bed. He looked over to the other bed. For a moment he expected to see Dean. For a moment everything felt normal, everything felt right. Instead, he saw Bobby still asleep in Dean's bed. He laid still, watching Bobby as he shifted under the gaze of the youngest Winchester.

He shuffled in the small bed and slowly opened his eyes, locking into Sam's gaze.

"What time is it?" Sam was surprised to find his voice was raw and dry.

"Don't really know."

"It's morning."

"Looks that way."

"Did we sleep through the night?" Sam was obviously shocked. It had seemed like a lifetime since they had a decent night sleep. "Dean?"

Bubby just shrugged. "Go check on him if you want."

Sam stretched again and sat onto the edge of his bed. He took a moment to settle before standing and making his way to Bobby's room. He gently opened the door to find Dean stretched across the entire bed sleeping. He obviously hadn't slept completely still through the night. Sam figured nightmares gave him some movements. But, the fact he hadn't cried out loud enough to wake them, and taking into consideration his brother was still asleep, Sam figured Dean was getting much needed rest, like the rest of them. If he woke in terror he was able to calm himself and fall back asleep.

He closed the door back, making his way to the bathroom to relieve himself. He met Bobby in the hallway, waiting his turn for the toilet.

"Dean good?"

"Yeah, he's still asleep."

Bobby just nodded as he closed the bathroom door behind him.

Sam made his way into his room, putting on clean clothes for the day, taking a glance at the clock he was shocked to see that it was ten o'clock. They had all seemed to sleep the morning away. Exhaustion finally taking over and allowing them some comfort and rest.

As Sam walked from his room he met his dad walking out of his room as well. He took a moment to look at his dad, remembering the ordeal the night before.

"Morning." John greeted Sam. He wanted nothing more than to avoid a confrontation with his youngest son. He was sober, and well aware of his actions the night before. Well, most of them anyhow.

Sam nodded a greeting at his dad, following him down the stairs. It didn't take but a moment longer for Bobby to join the two of them in the kitchen. Sam was standing at the fridge with the door wide open. John was in front of an open cabinet.

"Get out of the way, boy." Bobby grunted, pushing Sam to the side. "I ain't using the fridge to cool the damn house."

Sam gave a slight chuckle. "Feed me then."

Bobby grunted again. "Well you damn idjits ain't gettin' very far with fixing anything. How about you get outta my way and let someone who knows what they're doing in there."

"You've always been a good house wife." John joked as he closed the cabinet and stepped out of Bobby's way.

Sam couldn't help but release a small laugh at his dad's comment.

Sam and John sat at the table, waiting for Bobby to finish cooking. Right on cue, as if he knew, as soon as Bobby started setting the food on the table, Dean made his way into the kitchen with the others.

"Morning, Dean." Bobby greeted him.

Sam and John both turned to look in surprise. Dean gave a lopsided grin.

"Sit down, Bobby just made breakfast." John suggested.

Dean sat in his designated chair. He seemed quiet, but okay.

"How'd you sleep?" Sam asked.

"Okay, I guess." Dean answered with a shrug.

"Good." Sam replied with a mouth full of eggs. He was scooping food onto his plate while filling his mouth at the same time.

Dean just shook his head at his little brother and gave a slight slap to his upper arm. "Act human." Dean grunted at him.

Sam turned to Dean, opening his mouth wide, allowing the half chewed food to be exposed and small pieces to fall from his mouth. Dean tore a piece of biscuit from his plate and threw it at Sam. In return, Sam threw food back at him.

Both boys giggled as Bobby gave a stern "boys!" and they started eating the food on their plates, eying each other, ready for an unexpected attack from the other.

Even though Bobby had to stop the food fight before it started he couldn't help but smile internally. John's eyes showed a hidden smile as well. It was nice to see the boys acting like themselves. Even if it ended up being a fleeting moment, they would all take this moment over the moments they've had recently.

After the family finished eating Sam and Dean proceeded to clear the table and wash the dishes. Acting like kids, Sam splashed water on Dean, receiving bubbles blown at him from the dishwater Dean was using. The water splashing and bubble blowing went on a few more times before Dean had enough, instead of blowing the bubbles, he smeared them in Sam's face, receiving a snap of the towel Sam was holding. Both boys had released small laughter during the ordeal.

The first time the towel hit Dean it snapped his outer thigh. Not feeling too much of a sting, he poured a bowl of water over his little brother's head, drenching his long hair and clean shirt, leaving a puddle on the floor around his feet.

Sam's long hair was blinding him as he tried to swipe his eyes dry with his shoulder while snapping Dean with the towel again. Sam was able to open his eyes at the same time the towel hit Dean. Instantly, Dean's eyes widened as his breath hitched with the large gulp of air.

Sam quickly pulled his arm away as he saw the towel hit Dean's inner thigh and groin area.

"Dean, breathe." Sam tried to keep his tone calm and even, but Dean had held his breath, completely stopping his lungs from working.

"Dean." Sam didn't dare touch him, not yet. "Breathe for me."

Dean drew in a deep breath, his stillness turning into a panicked hyperventilation.

"Calm down. God, Dean, I'm so sorry." Sam's tone held a slight panic of its own, mixed with guilt. "It's okay, Dean, you need to slow your breathing down."

Sam continued to try to comfort his brother until he saw Dean finally blink. Once, he blinked, Sam knew his brother was back with him enough he would handle touch. Sam stood in front of his brother, gently placing both hands on the sides of Dean's shoulders.

"Come on, lets sit down." Sam suggested as he guided Dean to the nearest chair.

Once seated, Dean seemed to calm slowly. His breathing slowed to a more normal rhythm and his eyes seemed to clear with awareness. He felt like his chest was quivering, his body trembling.

"You back with me?"

Dean nodded his head before he was able to speak. "Yeah. Yeah." Dean's voice was a strained near whisper.

Sam patted the top of Dean's knee. "It's okay, you're doing good. Just stay with me."

It only took a few moments longer before Dean instantly pushed himself to his feet, shoving Sam out of his way, and rushing to the nearest bathroom.

He dropped to his knees and emptied the contents of his stomach into the toilet. The same contents he had happily put inside himself just mere minutes before, were now exiting with a vengeance.

Sam waited until Dean was finished with the violence of his own body before joining him on the floor. Dean sat back, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he leaned his back against the sink cupboard behind him.

Sam reached up and flushed the toilet before pushing himself against the wall across from Dean. Both brothers sat on the cold bathroom floor, facing each other.

"You okay?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah. Sorry."

Sam shook his head. "No need to apologize. I'm the one who's sorry."

"You didn't do anything." Dean paused before speaking again. "I don't know what happened, Sam."

"You know that stuff Bobby was talking about? About how you're gonna have stuff that makes you triggered?"

"Yeah."

"I think this is one of those things. One of the smaller ones that he was talking about."

"This sucks!"

Sam chuckled. "Yeah, it does. But, hey, at least it wasn't as bad as the last time."

Dean nodded with a loppy sided smile. "Yeah, gotta agree with you there."

"You okay?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"I'll try to be more careful." Sam was obviously full of guilt for what had happened.

"Sam, I don't want you to change a thing. I was actually enjoying myself, for the first time in a long time. I don't want that to change."

"Yeah. I was too. I just hate that I ruined it."

"Sam, don't. Please. I don't want you, or anyone else, to change because you're afraid how I might react to something. Hell, I don't want that kind of fear, I sure as hell don't want anyone else to feel what I do."

"Does it scare you?"

"What?"

"Being around people. Not knowing how you're going to react to things, or not knowing if something is going to set you off?"

"Yeah, I guess you can say that." Dean shrugged. He honestly had never really thought of it.

"I wish you didn't feel that way."

"Me too."

"I mean, we're all family here. There's nothing you should be scared of. I guess I just wish everyone could accept the fact you might react and understand it."

"You talking about Dad?"

"Yeah."

Dean sighed. "Yeah, well, I don't expect that to change either."

Sam gave a half-hearted smile. "Guess it wouldn't be Dad if he didn't act like an ass at times."

Dean chuckled at his little brother. "Come on, lets get off this nasty floor."

Sam chuckled back. He stood first, giving Dean his hand to help him stand. He didn't deny the help, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew he was going to need his little brother's help if he was going to get through this. And, damn it, he WAS going to get through this.

"You two done kissing and making up?" Bobby joked as the brothers entered the living room where Bobby and John were sitting.

"What's the matter? You jealous?" Dean joked back as he sat in the empty chair by the couch, and Sam flopped onto the end of the couch that his dad wasn't sitting at. It happened to be the end closest to Dean.

The fact Sam was nearby, separating him and John, gave Dean some comfort. It helped ease the anxiety that seemed to tilt on the boarder of the back of Dean's mind.

John cleared his throat, drawing Dean's attention. "Look, Dean, about last night."

"Dad. Don't." Dean stopped him.

"Dean, I'm sorry."

"Dad, please. You were drunk. I know, okay. Now just drop it."

"It doesn't excuse –"

"Dad! Just stop!" Dean couldn't hold in his irritation.

"Dean, It's okay." Bobby tried to calm him. "This needs to be a group effort. You all three need the freedom to be able to speak, to apologize, to release what you're holding inside. Your daddy included."

Dean dropped his head in defeat. "Sorry."

"Dean. I know this isn't easy on you. But it's not easy on anyone else either."

"I know." Dean sounded so defeated, so broken.

"I'm sorry Dean." John had a mixture of frustration and sympathy.

Dean sighed. The anxiety he had felt teetering was tipping over the edge. His hands trembled as he held them in his lap.

John shifted off the couch, kneeling on the floor in front of his oldest son. He placed a hand on his knee, feeling Dean's body tense under his touch. His breathing increased slightly, but he fought to keep calm.

"Dean." He made sure his son was looking at him, giving him his attention while he spoke. "Look, what happened last night."

Dean's eyes shifted to glance at Sam, making sure he was still there, still nearby.

"I know you don't want to talk about this."

Dean released a slight sigh. "Then, why do you insist on talking about it?"

"Because, I need to."

Dean swallowed hard and locked his jaw tight. He remained silent, allowing his dad to say what he needed to say.

"Look, I know I was drunk. And, I know you're used to that behavior from me. You did everything exactly the same as you always have. You took care of me, the same way you take care of Sammy. And, I don't know if I've ever thanked you for that. But, I'm thanking you now."

Dean gave a slight curve to the side of his mouth. Not quite a smile, but it was at least an attempt.

"I don't know what the hell happened, son. I don't know what possessed me to act the way I did. I wish to god I could take it back, but I can't. I know I violated you. I hurt you. I broke your trust in me. And, for that, I'm sorry. I know that doesn't make up for it. But, I'm trying. Rather it seems like I am or not, I am. This isn't easy."

John paused to sigh and keep his wits about himself before continuing.

"I've always seen you in a certain way. You've always been the strong one. The one who's held this family together."

John shifted, adjusting himself to a more comfortable position on the floor.

"I know it doesn't seem fair, and it isn't. But, I could leave Sam with you and I didn't have to worry. I always knew you would take care of him. You always have. You've always taken care of both of us. And, you've never complained. You've never asked for anything for yourself. Instead, you sacrificed yourself to do what was needed. Sacrifices you know I knew nothing about, not until recently."

Dean nodded.

"Look, I'm having to adjust the way I see things. The way I see you. Not that there's anything wrong with you, with the way you've always been. But, right now, things are just different. And it's hard for me, as your dad, to see my son hurting so much. Especially when you're supposed to be so strong."

"Sorry."

"Dean. You have nothing to apologize for. The truth is, I've always seen you as something superhuman. I've never given you the chance to just be human. To just be you. To have feelings, emotions. To hurt."

"It's okay."

"No, no it's not."

Dean just shrugged. He wasn't feeling the most comfortable with this conversation.

"I had no right to do what I did to you yesterday. I had no right to let my drunkenness take control and act out against the emotions I've been holding in."

"Really, Dad, it's okay."

"No. It's really not. But, I'm going to try to make it right. I'm going to try harder to adjust to all the changes we've been encountering. I'm going to work harder at being your dad."

He placed both hands on Dean's knees. "You hear me, son?"

"Yes, sir."

He patted Dean's knees. "It's going to be okay."

"Everyone keeps saying that."

"I know, and slowly things have been improving, rather you see it or not. No one said it was going to be quick, but it will be eventually."

Dean turned the corner of one side of his mouth up, giving a lopsided, unsure, sideways smile. "We done?" Dean couldn't help but fill the awkward silence with the question he so badly wanted a yes to.

"We good?" John questioned.

"Yes sir."

"Somehow I don't believe that. But, yeah, we're done if you want us to be."

Dean didn't hesitate to stand and move his way away from his dad and out the front door. He didn't care where he was going, he just needed to get away from the tightness in his chest.

Sam started to stand, to follow his brother, until Bobby stopped him. "Leave him be." Was all Bobby had to say in order for Sam to sit back down. "He'll be fine, just give him his space." Bobby reminded Sam that sometimes Dean works things out better by himself.

The day shifted on and the men tried to make the best of their day. Dean had yet to return to the house, but Bobby kept an eye on him, knowing he was in the shed working on one of the vehicles. Dean enjoyed restoring the old broken cars. It kept him at peace and made him feel like he was accomplishing something.

After Dean didn't return for lunch, Bobby carried out a large glass of ice water, sure Dean would at least be thirsty. He left the house with clear instructions for Sam and John to remain inside, to give Dean his space.

Even though Sam tried his hardest to convince Bobby he should go with him, Bobby's orders won out in the end.


	81. Chapter 81

**Chapter 81**

"How you hanging in there?"

Dean startled, slamming his head on the hood of the car. He was so lost in his own world he didn't even hear Bobby approaching. He instantly reached up and rubbed the back of his head.

"I was better before you made me almost knock myself out."

Bobby gave a small laugh. "Yeah well, I'd watch it there if I were you, I'm sure your head injury isn't completely healed yet."

"It's not."

Dean bent back over the hood of the car, putting his body against the motor, not pausing what he was doing.

"Figured you could use something to drink since you skipped lunch."

"Thanks."

Dean replied but showed no signs of moving away from what he was doing. He showed no signs of wanting anything to do with Bobby or the water he had brought him.

"How you really doing?"

Dean paused for a moment, frozen, before pulling himself away from the motor to look at Bobby.

"What do you want me to say, Bobby?"

"The truth."

"The truth? Since when did anyone care about the truth?"

"Since always."

Dean just shook his head and went back to working on the car.

Bobby moved himself in the way, between Dean and the car, forcing him to stop his attempts at drowning out the world around him.

"Dean?"

"What!"

Dean didn't mean to make his tone sound so angry. He was tired of being bothered, tired of everyone constantly hanging over his shoulder. He was tired of feeling like a failure.

"Watch that tone, boy."

"Then move out of my way."

"What's eating at you?"

"You are."

"Come again?"

"Sorry."

Dean leaned his back against the counter that was against the wall behind him.

"How about you talk to me instead of apologizing."

"I'm just tired of being a damn failure to everyone. I know I've screwed things up, but honestly, I can't say I won't do it again if everyone doesn't just leave me the hell alone."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means…"

Dean sighed, wiping his hand down his face, leaving a streak of grease in his hand's path.

"It means that there's a reason I keep walking out on everyone. I get it. Okay? I get it. I understand why Dad keeps walking out on us. I know how the hell it feels when you're surrounded by so much you can't control. But, unlike Dad, I fail at walking away. I can't even seem to do that right."

"Boy, you ain't nothing like your dad. The reasons he left you boys is different than the reasons you left. And, you ain't no damn failure, so you just get that thought outta your damn head!"

"Whatever, Bobby."

Dean tried to push past his friend, tried to go back to working on the car, it was the only thing that has seemed to calm his mind. Bobby reached out and grabbed both of Dean's shoulders, stopping him from forcing his way past. He gave him a slight shake as he spoke.

"What the hell don't you get? What aren't you understanding?"

Dean couldn't bring himself to look at his friend, instead he found comfort in the view of the ground beneath him.

"You're as strong as they come. You're as brave as anyone I've met. And, you ain't no damn failure! Sure, you may not have made some of the best choices lately."

Dean tried to pull away but was unsuccessful. He gave into the strength Bobby held continuing to hang his head in shame as Bobby spoke.

"But that don't make you a failure. That don't make you dumb, or anything else you may think of yourself. You just get those thoughts outta your head. You keep pushing through. You keep fighting. You keep hanging on and everything will be okay. You'll see. You'll be okay."

Bobby ended with tears in his eyes. He had pulled Dean toward him, embracing him in his arms. Dean didn't resist. He didn't try to pull away. He let Bobby do what he needed. He allowed himself to be embraced. He allowed himself to give into the safety of the man in front of him.

"Bobby."

Dean's words were mumbled. He was speaking around the embrace of Bobby's chest.

"Yeah?"

Dean pushed away, keeping himself in the safety of his touch.

"Do…"

Dean paused, stumbling over the words he was trying to say.

"Do, what?"

Bobby attempted to push Dean without pushing him too hard.

"Do… Is there… uh…"

Dean shuffled his feet like an embarrassed child. Bobby could feel his trembling until Dean pulled himself away from the gentle touch.

"Spit it out, boy."

"Is there something… wrong… with me?"

"How so?"

"I mean… I don't know. Never mind."

"Don't you dare do this! Don't you dare just stop what you're trying to say. When the hell you gonna realize you're worth whatever it is you're wanting to say?"

Dean looked up at Bobby. Unsure exactly what he was trying to ask.

"Is there a reason… uh… is there something that makes… people… guys… want… you know…"

"Who exactly you referring to? Strangers or your family?"

Dean just shrugged.

"Well, the way I see it is the strangers who's hurt you, there's something wrong with them, not you."

"And… you know… the… not strangers?"

"Your daddy and brother?"

Dean just looked at the ground and shuffled his feet, grinding the toes of one foot into the dirt beneath him.

"Dean, you said it yourself, they were possessed. You think differently now?"

"I don't know."

"Dean, talk to me."

"I said I don't know."

"What makes you question that now?"

Dean just shrugged.

"Something happen?"

"Just wondering."

Bobby let out a grunt, knowing there was a reason behind Dean's questioning.

Dean shifted to where Bobby had sat the water. Lifting it he decided he made another bad decision by asking Bobby the question running through his mind. It was something he had already decided he would deal with on his own. It was something he didn't need to discuss with anyone else.

"You bring anything stronger?"

Dean questioned as he held up the glass of water, shaking the ice against the glass sides.

"You think you need anything stronger?"

"Right."

Dean sat the glass down, shifting his sight back to the ground beneath him. He knew he had screwed up lately. He knew he had screwed up big enough that there was no way he could make it right. But, why did everyone have to keep reminding him? Why did everyone have to look at him like he was an invalid. Now, even Bobby was seeing him that way.

"I didn't mean it like that."

Bobby tried to defend himself, noticing the shift in Dean's behavior.

"Don't."

Dean was barely able to get the single word past his lips. It came out quieter than he meant for it to. He started walking away. Bobby reached his hand out to stop him, but instead, Dean shoved him away and pushed himself past.

"Dean! Where the hell you think you're going boy?"

"I gotta ask permission now?"

Dean had spun himself around to look back at Bobby, arms spread wide, giving an invitation for Bobby to take his best shot at him. It didn't matter if his shot was physical or emotional. Either way he had already been beaten down.

"I asked you a question." Bobby kept his voice calm.

"Yeah? And what was that?"

"What happened to make you question this?"

"Nothing, Bobby!"

"Yeah, well you sure as hell don't act like it was nothing."

"I'm just sick and tired of every damn person wanting to get off on me, that's all. Like I said, nothing."

Dean spun back around and headed toward the house. Bobby followed him. The only thing Dean wanted was to be left alone.

"Where's Dad?"

Dean walked into the house, seeing Sam sitting on the couch but their dad nowhere to be found.

"In his room." Sam replied with confusion.

Dean quickly made his way upstairs.

Sam and Bobby gave each other a confused look.

"What's up with him?" Sam questioned.

"Don't really know. Think that head injury has him thinking a little crooked right now."

Sam snorted at Bobby's response. He completely agreed with Bobby's statement.

Bobby sighed as he sat in the chair near Sam.

"Lemme ask you something."

Sam looked up, giving Bobby his complete attention.

"You remember when you groped your brother?"

Sam's cheeks reddened. "Of course."

Bobby nodded. "You know why you did that?"

Sam shrugged. "Not really."

"What do you remember?"

"Dad told me to. He said it would help with some training stuff. Help Dean be able to face that monster."

"You ain't ever obeyed your daddy before."

"I'm not completely disobedient."

"Why'd you chose that time to obey?"

"I don't know. Bobby, I really don't. I'm not sure what went through my head. I mean, I remember my actions. But, it's like I didn't have any emotions or thoughts. It was just actions."

"You think you were possessed?"

"Honestly?"

Bobby nodded.

"I don't really know. I mean, it could be an explanation. But I didn't feel weird or anything. I didn't feel like I was possessed by a demon or anything like that. If Dean wouldn't have pointed it out, I wouldn't have even thought about it."

Sam drew in a deep breath. "The thing is, Bobby, there's no way I would have touched him like that. There's no way I would have gotten off on his pain. Training or not, there's no way. So, I don't really understand why I would have done that to him."

"So, you believe you were possessed?"

Sam shrugged. "I mean, it would be an explanation, I guess. All I know is there had to be something because I would never do what I did to my brother."

Bobby nodded. "And, your dad?"

Sam shrugged. "You get enough alcohol in that man he's capable of anything."

"You ever see him touch your brother like that?"

"No."

"Good."

"But that don't mean he wouldn't have."

"What's that mean?"

"If he knew what he knows now. If he knew what Dean had done. If he had enough alcohol in him…he's capable of anything. That's all I'm saying."

"So, you think he would have raped your brother before now?"

Sam shrugged. "I can't really answer that."

"Just your opinion, doesn't have to be the truth, just tell me what you think."

"I think if he knew Dean was dropping to his knees for everyone else, he would have had him doing it to him too. I think enough damn alcohol and he would have found a way to do what everyone else couldn't."

Bobby sighed. If Sam was saying this then there had to be some truth to it.

"Your dad that mean to him?"

"I mean. I don't really know. He beat on him, yeah. Sure, he trained him hard, too hard. But, I guess, honestly, I just accepted things the way they were. I didn't think anything about it. It was just the way things were. You know? I mean, it was all I ever knew, so I guess I didn't see any wrong in it."

Bobby closed his eyes and shook his head as Sam continued.

"The only times I remember getting upset over things, when I was little, was when Dad would make Dean bleed too much or make him cry from pain."

"How so?"

"His belt, most of the time. But he would also hit him and kick him. Sometimes, he would throw him around, like against a wall or onto the floor."

"Punishment or training?"

"Is there a difference?"

"Not really, just wondering what his reasoning was."

"Both, I guess. Depended on the situation. Sometimes, I never knew why. I guess I figured it was punishment for something he did wrong. Dad had me believing Dean did a lot wrong. I'm not really sure if Dean ever knew why either. He probably just took whatever Dad dished out and didn't ask questions."

"Damn idjit." Bobby mumbled to himself

Sam nodded in agreeance.

"Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"Is there a reason you're asking me this?"

"Just something Dean said outside."

"Is he okay?"

"I don't know. I think he's trying to figure out everything in his head. I know it ain't easy on that boy, I just wish he would talk a little more."

"He's talked more than he's ever talked."

"I know, but he only says certain things. He still keeps himself so damn guarded."

Sam nodded.

"Dad?"

Dean didn't even bother to knock on the closed door. He opened the door cautiously as he walked into John's room.

"Yeah, son?"

John was sitting on the edge of his bed. His feet planted on the floor, his elbows resting on his knees, his head cradled in one hand, a drink in the other. Dean dropped to his knees in front of his dad.

"Do you want me?"

Dean's voice trembled, expressing the feeling on the inside.

"I didn't call for you."

Dean shifted closer, pushing himself between his dad's knees.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean?"

Dean's hands trembled as he reached up, taking a hold of John's zipper and pulling it down. Next, he fumbled with the button on his pants, releasing it from the hole that held them closed.

"What are you doing?" John questioned, but didn't stop Dean's actions.

"I need to know."

"Know what?"

"If this is what you want."

"Why would you think it's what I want?"

Dean reached into his dad's pants, pulling out his already hardening cock. John placed his hand on top of Dean's

"Why would you think it's what I want?" John repeated.

"You've said it was. You've tried to…"

"What I did last night, I was drunk." John interrupted in a calm voice.

"I know."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Giving you what you want."

Dean moved one hand off his dad, moving the hand that he had gently laid on top of Dean's. He carefully and gently placed his dad inside his mouth.

Fear stabbed through him. The only thing he wanted to do was run away, hide, and cry. But he couldn't. He had started this and was damn sure going to finish it.

"Dean?"

Dean didn't respond. He continued to work his magic on the person in front of him.

"Dean." John repeated softly, lifting his son's face off him, forcing him to look into his eyes. "What are you doing?"

"Giving you what you want." Dean repeated.

"What makes you think this is what I want?"

"Because, you're enjoying it."

"You're my son."

Dean shrugged his shoulders.

"Is there a reason you're doing this?"

"I need to know."

"Know what?"

"If you want me… like this."

John closed his eyes and softly shook his head. He wasn't completely sure what was running through his head right now. Confusion. Alcohol. Fear. Hurt. More confusion.

"I don't." John whispered.

"Please, Dad, I just need you to be honest with me. I need to know."

"And this is how you'll know?"

"Yes, sir."

"How?"

"Neither of us will really know, not until you know what it is, you're supposed to be wanting or not wanting."

"I…" John was finding it hard to push the words past the lump in his throat.

Dean pulled his face from his dad's hands and started pleasuring him again.

"Dean…. I can't." John sobbed.

Dean just continued what he was doing.

"Dean. I'm drunk." John confessed.

Dean still didn't stop. He was gentle. Too gentle. He was loving and caring. He was everything John had missed in life. He missed his son. He missed the caring gentle side of him. He missed his Mary. He missed her loving touch, her caress, her ability to turn him on with just a look.

"This is wrong." John whispered.

Still, Dean didn't stop. John was ready. He was ready for anything his son wanted to give him. He had hardened him, solid, more solid than he had been in a long time. Throbbing combined with the want.

"Why?" John questioned. "Why are you doing this to me?"

 _Because you won't stop me._ That was the answer that ran through Dean's head. That was the answer he wanted to shout at his dad. But he didn't. He didn't stop what he was doing. He didn't faulter in his actions.

He heard the clink of the bottle as his dad shifted beneath him. He knew he was only drinking more. He knew he was finding a more comfortable position. He knew he wanted to fully enjoy what was happening to him.

 _The taste._ The taste was different. The taste was better. It was clean. It wasn't an old trucker or someone looking for a quickie in a rundown warehouse.

 _The smell._ The smell was his dad. It was his cologne, his soap. It wasn't the smell of old sweat and sex that remained from the last person he had been with.

 _The feeling._ The feeling was the same. His mouth was full. His throat was being assaulted. He was allowing it to slide down his throat, to tear the tenderness, to leave him gasping for air each time he was given a chance to grab onto breath.

 _The nausea._ God, the nausea was worse than he could remember. He wanted to vomit, to empty his already empty stomach. He wanted to allow the feelings on the inside to exit through his stomach. He wanted the acid to rise and burn as it made its way past the new tearing in his throat.

He wanted this to stop. But it wouldn't. With each passing moment he felt like he was losing his mind a little more. He had started gentle, but was quickly forced into something more forceful, something more painful, something filled with hate and regret.

Another clinking of a bottle. Another opening of a new lid. Another moment the alcohol rushed through his dad's veins. He wanted to scream for him to stop. He wanted to push him away. But he couldn't. He couldn't breathe enough to scream. He couldn't stop shaking long enough to gain any strength.

He had started this. He had put this upon himself. Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he was just going to be a willing participant in whatever he wanted to give to him. Maybe he enjoyed it?

If he enjoyed it then why did he want it to stop so badly? Why did he want to vomit?

When had his dad's hands grasped him? When did they force his pants to his knees? When did he lift from his knees and lay across the bed? When did his dad start slapping him? Calling him names? Cursing at him? When did things change?

Why couldn't he cry out? Why couldn't he tell his dad to stop? That it hurt? That this wasn't what he wanted?

A shattering of an empty bottle rattled his skull. The assault of his dad inside of him had him yelping in pain. The pain. The bottle. The blood. It must have been a punishment for him crying out in pain when his dad willingly took what Dean had offered.

But did he offer him this? He was only going to use his mouth this time. That he was sure of. This wasn't in his plans. John had a bottle in one hand, guzzling it down, and Dean's hair in his other hand, pulling his head back forcing his body to fold backwards as far as it could.

He grasped his throat, blocking out the air. He released his throat when he needed another drink from the bottle that he held pressed against him. If only he would let go of his hair, allow his body to lay back down. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad. He couldn't figure out, after everything he had been through, why the hell was this hurting so much?

His dad pushed himself inside as deep as he could go, pulling out just to slam back inside with as much force as he could manage. Dean didn't remember his dad being strong enough to apply that much force. He didn't remember his dad having the strength to make it feel like he was going to push his way out through his throat and out of his mouth.

Why didn't the pain ever stop? Why didn't it at least ease up? Instead, it only kept getting worse. He tried not to scream. He tried not to cry out in pain. But whatever just happened had his pain pushing over the edge.

He felt his dad finish himself off. He felt him pump inside of him one last time. He felt him pull out. But he only felt himself fill more as his dad emptied him.

His head was spinning. The world around him had turned gray. Everything felt fuzzy, like he was in a daze.

"Dad! Please!" Dean cried out.

"Shut up, boy. You wanted this. This… this is all your fault."

Another sharp stab of pain. Another scream of pain.

Was that… was that a bottle? Had his dad been using his empty bottles? Was that what was filling him up? Causing the pain?

He trembled, unable to move, unable to fight, unable to stop what was happening. He couldn't close his eyes against the pain. He couldn't cry or scream out. It had become too much. His mind could no longer process what was happening.

Another sharp pain. He couldn't move.

Hands, strong and tough. They grabbed his shoulders.

More pain. Too much pain. He needed this to stop. He needed a relief from the pain. There had been too much lately.

When had he sat? When was he forced to either allow the empty bottles to push inside him or shatter like the shards of glass they were?

When did everything start to become so dark? When had the world started to sway and spin?

He heard the thud before he ever felt it. He felt like he was lifted into the air before he found himself slammed against the unforgiving hard ground.

A flash of yellow.

A sinister laugh.

Pain. So much pain.

He couldn't cry. He couldn't move. He couldn't fight.

Everything went black, everything except the glow of the yellow eyes.


	82. Chapter 82

**CHAPTER 82**

"Dean!"

Sam and Bobby had heard the thump on the floor above them, accompanied by a small, barely audible, grunt of pain. They rushed upstairs to investigate.

Bobby felt shame fill him as he saw the unconscious man laying on the floor in front of him. He had figured Dean had made another bad decision, another attempt to stop the pain he had been feeling, but instead he had found him folded into a bloody, naked, unconscious lump in front of him.

Sam stopped right behind Bobby, he was unable to udder a sound, instead he just gasped at the sight.

"Dean?"

Bobby repeated the man's name. This time, it held less shock and more concern. He knelt beside him, gently laying a hand on his shoulder. He looked toward John's door, it was closed.

Sam didn't miss the look Bobby had given toward his dad's door. Someone had hurt Dean, this wasn't an injury he could have caused himself. His dad was the only other person in the house. The only person that could have been responsible for hurting his brother. He rushed to the door, slamming it opened.

"Dad!"

Sam shouted for his dad as he searched the room. He wasn't there. There was no sign of him anywhere. He looked back at Bobby, feeling lost and confused.

"Help me with your brother."

Bobby sighed as he gently lifted Dean so he was kneeling on the floor. His knees were beneath him, his body slumped over his legs, his head resting on the floor in front of him.

"Hold him up for me, and pray he doesn't wake up. This is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch." Bobby couldn't help but have a sigh in his voice as he spoke.

He quickly started removing the glass that was cutting into Dean's body. Sam grimaced at the sight. He knew Bobby was right, it would hurt like hell if Dean woke up.

"There's so much blood."

Sam sounded shocked and dazed as he knelt in front of his brother, resting his unconscious head in his lap, watching Bobby take care of his injuries.

"Yeah, boy." Bobby sighed.

Dean started shifting slightly, releasing nearly inaudible moans as he subconsciously responded to the continued assault to his body. The pain was too real. He didn't seem to be getting any relief. In his current state his mind couldn't wrap around the fact the pain was being caused by help and not someone wanting to hurt him.

"Hey, Dean. It's okay, man. It's okay. Just stay calm. Bobby's trying to help you. It's okay, I got you." Sam soothed as he whipped his hand through his brother's sweat soaked hair.

Dean mumble some incoherent words as he tried to shift his body away from the pain it was feeling.

"Help me hold him still." Bobby requested as he rested one hand on Dean's back, the other hand still removing the shards of glass.

Sam pressed a hand between Dean's shoulders, keeping him from being able to move his upper body.

"Hurts." Dean mumbled out as he started regaining consciousness.

"I know, Dean. I know. It's okay. We're going to help you." Sam's voice trembled as he fought back the tears that wanted to flood the floor around him.

Dean gasped in sudden pain. "Sssssammmy?"

"Yeah, it's me. I'm right here. It's okay."

"Dddon't… don't hurt me too… please." Dean's voice was laced with a pleading pain filled cry.

"I'm not, Dean. I promise I'm not going to hurt you."

"Stop. Please. Dad. Stop." Dean cried out as he tightly gripped the edges of his little brother's pants.

"Dean, Dad's not here."

"I… I didn't…" Dean paused to gasp in pain again. "I didn't mean to… I'm sorry… Please… I can't."

"Dean? Can you tell me what happened?"

Sam figured, as long as his brother wasn't moving around and was conscious he would try to get him to talk to him, try to find out what happened, try to occupy Dean's mind with something besides the unforgiving pain Bobby was putting him through.

"I… I had to know, Sammy… I had to know."

"Know what?"

Dean cried out in pain.

"I don't understand, Dean. Know what?"

"If… Dad… if Dad wanted me."

"Did Dad hurt you?" Sam couldn't help but exchange glances with Bobby, both of them afraid of the answer they would get.

"Wasn't… wasn't him."

"What do you mean it wasn't him?"

Sam was desperate for answers. Answers he wasn't going to get. He could feel his brother's body go limp. He could feel the grip on the edges of his pant legs loosen.

"Don't you dare do this to me! You stay awake! You hear me? You gotta stay awake."

Sam placed a hand on each of Dean's shoulders and gave him a slight shake as he tried to draw his brother's attention back to him. Dean slipped open his eyes part way before they rolled toward the back of his head.

"Damn it!" Sam was beyond frustrated as he laid Dean's head back in his lap.

"It's best." Bobby sighed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He's gotta be in a lot of pain."

"Bobby, what the hell did he mean by its not him?"

"Don't know."

"Does that mean Dad didn't hurt him?"

"Like I said, don't know."

"If it wasn't Dad then who the hell was it? Who the hell could have gotten into this house?"

"Boy, I ain't gonna repeat myself again."

"Does he seriously want us to believe someone just broke into your house for the sole purpose of hurting him then disappear?"

Bobby just shook his head in frustration.

"And where the hell is Dad?" Sam didn't mean to raise his voice but he felt like his insides were wanting to claw their way out.

"Sam. I know you're frustrated. I want answers as badly as you do, but right now is not the time. We need to make sure your brother lives through this first."

"He will. He's Dean. Dean's always okay, right? He always makes it through everything, right? Isn't that what everyone always says?"

Bobby chose not to answer. He had so much weighing on his mind, he didn't have the energy to deal with the youngest Winchester's attitude.

It must have been hours, or at least that's what it felt like to Sam, and Bobby couldn't disagree. Dean had drifted in and out of consciousness, only to be hit by the pain he felt and drifted away again.

"I think I got it all done." Bobby finally announced. "Help me get your brother somewhere more comfortable so I can clean up this mess."

Sam had figured Dean would feel the most comfortable in Bobby's bed. Bobby agreed even though they both knew they wouldn't be leaving him alone until this was all figured out, or until they found John.

They carefully lifted him from the floor and gently laid him on Bobby's bed.

"Ssss…" Dean started to wake again, only able to make the sounds of the beginning of his brother's name.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm right here."

Sam gently sat on the bed beside his brother, wiping away the stray hairs that had stuck to his brother's forehead. He looked up at Bobby, fear and uncertainty wore deep in his features. He wasn't sure what to do now. He didn't know what his brother would be feeling or what he would need.

"I'm gonna go work on the mess I made. I'll leave the door open. Call me if you need me." Bobby gave Sam's shoulder a reassuring pat before he stepped out of the room.

"Sammy?"

"Hey, Dean, I'm right here."

"Where's Dad?"

"I don't know. He's not here."

"Have to find Dad."

"Why?"

"He… he's not Dad."

"What do you mean?"

"Yellow eyes."

"Yellow eyes? The demon?"

Dean's voice had gotten weak. Instead of answering with words he just nodded his head.

"Did Dad do this to you?"

"Not Dad."

"Okay, did yellow eyes do this to you in Dad's body?"

Again, Dean just nodded.

Sam had heard Bobby's shuffling behind him but hadn't been able to pull his eyes from his brother. He finally turned to look at his friend. Searching for answers he was hoping Bobby would have.

"Dean?" Bobby spoke gently as he approached the brothers and sat at the edge of the bed. "How do you know it wasn't your daddy?"

"His eyes." Dean practically whispered the words.

"Where they yellow?"

Dean just nodded at Bobby's question.

"Okay, we'll figure this out. How about you get some rest."

"NO!"

"Okay, calm down there. It's okay. We're not going to leave you alone. We'll be right here with you until we figure this thing out."

"It's my fault."

"How so?"

"I… I started it all."

"What exactly did you start?"

"I needed to know, Bobby. I had to know."

"Know what?"

"If… if he wanted me… like that."

"Sexually?"

Dean nodded.

"And, this was the outcome?"

Again, Dean nodded.

"Did you want it to go this bad? Where you looking to be hurt?"

"No." The simple word was forced out through the exhaustion that was taking hold.

"Then, what exactly was in your head? How did you start it?"

"I… I was just… going to use… use my mouth." Dean sobbed with the weakened words.

"This don't exactly look like you succeeded in that."

Dean shook his head. "I don't know what happened."

"Looks like your dad got the upper hand on you."

"Everything got fuzzy. I… I couldn't think. I don't… I didn't… Bobby… I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry."

"Alright, well there's not going to be any apologizes. Not right now. You got that?"

Dean nodded.

"We gotta figure out where the hell your old man took off to. Then we gotta figure out how the hell to take care of this damn demon. After that, we can figure out how to make all this right again."

"I don't know if we can." Dean released the final sentence with a puff of air as his eyes began to drift closed.

"We can. Don't you worry about that." Bobby whispered into the air around them. "Get you some rest, it'll be okay, we'll figure this out." He pulled the covers back around Dean's shoulders, giving him needed comfort and care.

Bobby gave Sam's shoulder another pat. "I'll be downstairs doing some research, you okay here with your brother right now?"

"Yes sir."

Bobby nodded his head and gave Sam a look of sadness and acceptance of the strength he was showing right now.

"Try to get you some rest too, it's gonna be a long night."

Sam just nodded as a response. He shifted his body to lay beside his brother's and Bobby pulled covers over the young man before walking out of the room.

"Hey, Dean. I don't know if you can hear me right now or not. But I just wanted to tell you that I'm sure you're blaming yourself for everything that's happened. But none of it is your fault. You got that? I know you have made some bad decisions, and I know sometimes you weren't really given much of a choice."

Sam shifted to make himself more comfortable. "And, I know it didn't always seem fair. Especially when we were younger. But I still think you're a pretty amazing brother. I still think you're damn strong and one hell of a human being."

He brushed the hair away from Dean's face. "I know you'll be okay. I know you're always okay and this won't be any different. But I also know its not going to be easy. But I'll be here with you. I'll be right by your side any time you need me. Even when you think you're over the hump, if anything comes up, I'll be right here."

Sam started to absentmindedly rub circles onto Dean's back. "I wish you had it easier. I wish you didn't have to go through so much pain. Especially here lately. It seems like life just can't give you a break. I'm not stupid. I know part of the reason you get dealt a bad deal is because of me. I know you do everything you can to protect me. You always have. You've always done everything in your power to take care of me."

He wiped a stray tear that ran from his eye. "When are you going to realize that you need to be taken care of too? When are you going to see that you need protected? When are you going to let me help keep you safe? I love you, man. You're my big brother. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. You just gotta give me a chance. You gotta let me help you."

"Sam."

"Yeah?"

"You're such a chick."

Sam couldn't help but release a small chuckle. "Yeah? Well you're a jerk."

"Why am I a jerk?" Dean turned his head to look at Sam.

"Because, you keep making me worry about you."

"Only chicks worry as much as you do."

"Only jerks make someone continuously worry."

Dean's eyes fluttered shut for a moment. His jaw locked tight, his face scrunched up. He then slowly opened his eyes again, releasing the tension he held so tightly.

"Hurting?" Sam questioned once Dean was looking at him again.

It took a moment for Dean to answer. He wanted to tell his brother he was okay, that it didn't hurt. But that was a lie and as much as he wanted to believe it, he knew Sam never would. His little brother had just poured his heart out to him. He just asked him to let him help. To Dean, that sounded like a good enough excuse as any to let his true feelings out.

"Yeah."

"I'll go see if Bobby has anything…"

Sam had started to get up as he spoke but was stopped as Dean reached out and grabbed his brother's arm as he interrupted what he was saying.

"NO!"

"Okay, hey, it's okay."

"Don't."

"Don't what, Dean?"

"Don't go. Please."

Sam's heart sunk farther than it had ever sunk before. His brother's expression held pain and sadness but the strongest emotion it held was fear. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen so much fear in the face of his big brother before. He sat back on the edge of the bed beside Dean and placed his hand over the hand that had grabbed him, the hand that still had a hold of his arm.

"Okay. I won't go anywhere. I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"It hurts." Dean admitted. "But it'll be okay, just don't leave, please."

"I'm not. I'm right here. I promise."

Dean nodded as he closed his eyes and swallowed hard against the pain that was rising in him.

"I'll call Bobby on the phone, see if he has anything, okay?"

Dean nodded again, thankful that he had Sam right now. Thankful that he had someone to help care for him. He didn't even want to move. He knew if he was alone there would be no way he would survive this. He would have just curled into a ball and either bled to death or died from the pain that was stabbing through his body.

"Yeah, hey Bobby." Dean heard Sam speak through the phone. "You got anything we can give him for pain?"

Dean wasn't able to concentrate on the conversation taking place beside him. He just wanted to close the world out. He wanted to escape the heartache and pain. He wanted this to be over. Not like before, before he was ready to end his own life to escape this. Now, he was able to see things differently.

His dad was in trouble. He needed help. Even if it took until he was healed, Dean was going to help him. He couldn't leave Sam to deal with their dad if he returned. He knew it was time to strengthen up again. It was time to face the world again. It was time to leave everything behind him and become the hunter he always was.

He needed to heal, keep himself as strong and pain free as possible. He needed his strength. He needed to fight this so he could help his family fight. Even if that meant letting his brother help take care of him. He knew, he wouldn't be able to do this alone. He knew he needed help if he would be able to help anyone else.

He startled when he felt a touch against his arm. He hissed out in pain when his body jumped.

"Whoa, take it easy there son. You back with us now?"

Dean looked up to see Bobby sitting beside Sam on the edge where Dean laid. He wasn't able to respond, he was too busy trying to catch his breath and keep the pain at bay. Instead, he just nodded and squeezed his face tight.

"Here take these." Bobby added once he knew Dean was completely back with them.

Dean opened his eyes and saw Bobby's arm stretched toward him, his hand grasping onto the small pills he was offering.

Dean reached out with a shaky hand and took the offering.

"It hurts." Dean didn't expect his voice to sound so much like a child crying to someone to help.

"I know it does. Those should help."

Sam helped Dean with the pills and water to wash them down since Dean wasn't able to do anything but lay on his stomach.

"Thanks." Dean replied once the pills were swallowed.

"You hanging in there?" Bobby knew he wasn't okay, there was no point in asking if he was.

"Yeah… I think so." Dean hated sounding so weak, his voice betraying any sense of strength he wanted to show.

Bobby drew his lips into a tight line. He needed to remain strong. Both of his boys needed him right now and he'd be damned if he let them down.

"What about you?"

Bobby was shocked at Dean's question. He looked down at the broken boy. He was staring at him, eyes half opened, pain evident on his face. He may have been hurting but he didn't miss the sadness in Bobby's face.

"Don't you worry about me. I'll be fine as long as you boys are okay."

"I don't know about being okay. Not right now." Dean admitted in defeat.

"I know, boy."

"Hey, Bobby."

"Yeah, Dean?"

"I'm not broken, you know that. right? A little bruised, maybe. But I'm not broken, not yet. It'll all be okay in the end, remember?"

Bobby smiled at the man he considered his oldest son. "Yeah, son, I know."

His voice was filled with pride and adoration. He didn't know what he did to deserve two of the most amazing people he knew to look up to him as a father. He didn't know what good he had ever done to deserve so much love in his life.

He couldn't seem to pull himself away from his bruised son. Yeah, that sounded better. He was bruised, not broken, bruised. He would be okay. Bobby had no doubt about that. Dean was one strong son of a bitch. He always has been. Bobby has no doubt that Dean was born strong, he was probably the strongest little boy ever.

He knew Dean was never a kid, even when his mom was alive. Dean was always there to help out, to comfort the broken hearted. It was his in his nature. It was what made Dean, Dean.

"Bobby?"

Dean's soft voice broke through Bobby's thoughts. He startled and turned to face the bruised man. Both boys were looking at him with concern in their eyes.

"Yeah?"

He tried to sound strong as he replied to Dean, but his voice seemed to falter and the strength he held was stuck in the abas with his thoughts.

"You okay?" Dean questioned.

"Yeah, of course I am. Now, why don't you boys get you some rest?"

"You need some too."

"No. I'm good."

"Then why did it take three tries to get your attention?"

Sam quickly interrupted the conversation the moment Dean's desperate eyes locked onto him. He was searching for answers, unsure of what to say at that moment. He, himself was damaged, he was searching for a way to hold himself together, he wasn't sure how to hold Bobby's pieces too, not with his hands already full of his own.

"Don't give me that crap." Bobby tried to defend himself. "Your brother only called my name once."

"I called your name three times before you responded to me." Dean sheepishly replied.

"I musta been lost in thought."

"Yeah?" Sam questioned. "About what?"

"About what the hell I've gotten myself into with you two idjits!"

"Hey, Bobby?"

Dean knew how hard headed Bobby could be. He had always said Dean was so much like him, and Dean knew how hard headed he could be, so he figured Bobby was probably worse. So, he decided to try a different tactic. He knew Bobby would never show concern for himself, but he would do anything to help Dean.

"Yeah, boy?"

Dean glanced at Sam, his eyes begged him not to do or say anything to go against what he was trying to do.

"I…" Dean dropped his head in shame.

"Aww rats! Just spit it out will ya?"

"I know I shouldn't be… like I gotta be strong and all that crap…" Dean paused, not sure how to say what he wanted.

"Okay, and?" Bobby pushed him to continue.

"I'm scared, Bobby."

"What ya scared of? Your old man?"

Dean nodded.

"Look, as long as me and Sam are around ain't nothing else gonna happen to you, ya got that?"

"Yes sir, but…"

"But what?"

"But that's just it. If you're downstairs then you're not here and…" He paused to draw in a deep breath. "We don't exactly know where Dad went, or if he'll be back. It's just… I mean if you don't mind… I'd feel safer."

"You want me to stay in here with you?"

"Yes sir. And Sammy too."

"Okay. If that'll help you get some sleep." Bobby quickly agreed. "You look like you're about to pass out."

"Yeah. Feel it too."

"Then why don't you close your peepers and get you some rest."

"You too?" Dean looked at both men, directing his question to each of them.

"Yeah, us too." Bobby sighed. "Looks like we ain't got much of a choice."

Dean gave a sideways grin and waited for his surragant father and his brother to lay on each side of him before he closed his own eyes. He was exhausted and in pain. He asked Bobby to stay so he would get some sleep too, but honestly, he was thankful he was there.

Dean would never admit it, but he did feel unsafe. He was afraid of his own dad. And, he needed the comfort and protection of both men tonight.


	83. Chapter 83

**CHAPTER 83**

Dean woke with nightmares through out the night. When he was sleeping, he would shift and toss around the bed. Neither of the other two were able to get much rest. Not exactly like Dean was able to either. He moaned through his sleep. The other two decided they needed to try their best to sleep through what they could.

There was no way any of them were going back to sleep after they were just startled awake. With a gasp, Dean's body shot up from his laying position with a pain filled scream.

Bobby was the firs one to jump with his reaction. Out of instinct, he grabbed Dean's arm to comfort him. Dean instantly grasped Bobby's arm. His fingers dug into this skin. His grip tightened to the point it was painful.

Sam quickly followed Bobby's actions. "Hey, Dean, its okay."

Dean's hand met the top of Sam's leg. He grasped his brother's leg much the same as Bobby's arm. His arm pressed down against Sam's leg. His fingers dug deep into his skin.

"Hey, boy." Bobby spoke with as much calmness as he could. "It's okay, just a dream."

Dean's body was covered in a layer of sweat. His hair stuck out everywhere. His face glistened with the liquid that covered it. His body trembled in every muscle. His eyes darted franticly around the room. His breaths were in short, shallow puffs.

"Hey, Dean." Sam spoke in a hushed tone.

Dean whipped his head around to look at his brother. "Where's Dad?"

Dean's voice was strained. It was a mixture of fear and desperation. Like there was a battle inside of his head. A part of him wanted his dad, wanted to know he was safe and okay. But the other side of him feared him. He was afraid of being hurt again. He was afraid of anyone finding out what had happened. What he had done. He was afraid that his dad liked it. He was afraid that he would have to do it again.

"He's not here, Dean."

Sam mentally slapped himself. Could he sound any more childish?

"Where is he?"

"We don't know."

"We haven't found him yet!"

"Dean, it's only been one day."

"Sam! There's no way Dad would ever sleep if he was looking for either of us!"

"Dean! It's not exactly like any of us had a choice. Especially you."

"Well I'm awake now!" Dean exclaimed.

He quickly attempted to push himself from the bed, to move to where he needed to go. Bobby and Sam tried to stop him. He was either being too stubborn or was too confused to realize what he was doing.

He quickly tossed himself on his knees on the floor. A cry of pain echoed through his ears. He had forgotten how much he hurt. He had forgotten he was hurt at all. The only thing he cared about was finding his dad. He had chosen to block everything else out. It was a choice he quickly regretted as the pain shot through his body.

Sam and Bobby were instantly knelt by his side. One man on each side of him. Sam had grabbed Dean's bicep with one hand and rubbed his back with the other. Bobby placed a hand on Dean's chest to keep him from falling forward.

"Hey, Dean. Breathe through it." Sam held so much sympathy and concern for his brother that it radiated through his voice.

"Son." *Gasp* *Gasp* "Of." *Gasp* "A." *Cough* *Wheeze* *Gasp* "Bitch!" *Gasp* *Cough* *Moan*

"It's okay, Dean. Just breathe. It'll pass." Sam tried his hardest to comfort his brother.

"Hurts. Like. A. Bitch!"

"Yeah, Yeah, I know. That's why you needed sleep."

"Dad."

"Don't worry about Dad. Not right now."

Dean looked up at Sam like he had just told him his puppy had died.

"Dean. I think Dad's gonna be okay for now. The demon needs him for whatever reason, so he's not going to kill him."

"Unless…." Dean puffed the words out around his gasps of air. "He… just… finished… his… purpose…"

"What? You really think that? You think the demon possessed Dad just to do this to you then kill him?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders, too exhausted to even look up at his brother.

"Okay." Bobby interrupted. "Let's get you laying back down before you pass out on us." He patted Dean's back and looked at Sam for help.

Without saying another word the two lifted Dean from the floor. He had tried to help but found it more painful than he could handle at that moment. Plus, it was too exhausting. He groaned and moaned in pain as they settled him back into bed.

"Sleep." Bobby instructed. "Sam and I will try to find your daddy."

Bobby turned to leave and Dean grasped his arm as he broke the physical contact against Dean's arm.

"Don't go."

Dean's deepened sadness in his eyes matched the tone in his voice. The fear bounced off like a lost ping pong ball. Bobby sat back down beside him, placing his hand on top of Dean's.

"You still scared?"

Dean's expression changed to one mixed with betrayal and shame.

"No!"

"Okay, well…" Bobby patted Dean on the back. "Good thing cause until we know where your dad is, we ain't leaving you alone. And by the looks of your little brother, you might have to keep him from crying a damn river in my room."

Dean gave a slight chuckle as Sam rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, Jerk!" Sam playfully joked with him.

"That's right, Bitch, you heard the man." Dean laughed back. His voice was weak, but he still had an image he needed to uphold.

"I'll be back. You boys do me a favor and don't rip each other's heads off while I'm gone." Bobby joked, giving Sam a wink of approval.

He stood and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. He needed so badly to leave that room. He had to get away from Dean. That boy was strong as nails, yet he was broken like a twig. NO! Not broken. Dean had said he wasn't broken. He was bruised. Bruises heal. Bruises don't leave life long scars. Breaks do. Once something is broken, it might be repaired, but there's always a lifetime of evidence from the break.

Dean was only bruised. This was only temporary. Then, why did it seem so permanent to Bobby? He found his way to his desk. He sat in his chair and cried. He couldn't carry these emotions any longer. He needed a release or he would end up losing himself in front of Dean. That he couldn't do! Dean was depending on him. He was leaning on him. He needed him.

Bobby sat and thought, remembering how childlike the boys could be. He remembered how many times he had noticed they never learned how to an adult any more than they learned how to be a child. It was a special innocence about them. It's what made them see the world differently than anyone else ever has.

He smiled. He loved these boys. He never wanted any kids. In fact, when his wife was alive, before he knew about the supernatural, he had flat out refused to be a father. He didn't want to end up like his own dad. He was afraid of hurting his kid the way his dad had hurt him. He was convinced it ran in the genes. She had wanted kids but he didn't. That was their last discussion before he learned about the supernatural. The last thing they had said to each other was hateful words because he refused to have children with her. After the argument he ended up having to kill her.

God, he loved that woman! He may not have wanted kids, but he sure as hell didn't want his wife dead either. He now wished they would have had a baby. If he knew then, what he knows now, he would have taken an entire house full of kids. If they were anything like Sam and Dean that is.

It just wasn't fair! He never could understand how John Winchester was given the most perfect children in history. He didn't know what John had done to deserve his boys. He didn't know what John had done to deserve such devotion from his oldest son.

Bobby shook his head to clear his thoughts. John. He had promised Dean he would look for his dad. And as much as Bobby was okay with the man being gone, he couldn't break his word to Dean. Secretly, after what he had done to Dean, possessed or not, he had wished if they ever did find him it would be six feet under.

He started by making some calls. He asked around, no one had seen him or heard from the hunter. Of course, he couldn't tell them what he had done. He couldn't tell them he was possessed. Even if he could have, he wouldn't. He thought maybe if he approached another hunter they would notice and shoot him on the spot. Bobby would be okay with that. He knew it was wrong. He knew he shouldn't think that way. But his boy was upstairs, hurting. He was hurting in a way Bobby was sure he had never hurt before. Not only physical pain, but mental anguish too.

He was hurting because of what his dad had done to him. It was like the ultimate betrayal. How could John allow a demon to get the jump on him? Maybe Dean was right. Maybe John did want him in a sexual way. If he did, then perhaps he allowed the demon to take over as an excuse to pleasure himself.

Frustrated, Bobby pushed himself away from is desk. He had talked to every hunter he knew. No one had seen him. They all said they would let him know if they did. He was going no where fast. Okay, not exactly fast. Maybe turtle speed fast. But he was for sure getting nowhere.

He made his way back upstairs to check on the boys. He wasn't sure why but he had this deep need to be in his room, to be with his boys. He had a need to be with Dean, to take care of him, to make sure they were both safe.

He quietly eased the door open. Both boys were laying across the bed sleeping. Dean was on his stomach, the covers wrapped tightly around his legs. Bobby was sure he had been moving in his sleep. Probably from a nightmare. His fist had a tight hold onto the front of Sam's shirt. It was like his little brother was his lifeline at that moment. His other arm was slung over his turned head, blocking the day from his eyes.

Sam laid on his side. He was allowing his brother to pull tightly on his shirt. One arm rested under his body, the other was thrown across Dean's back. Bobby figured during the nightmare that caused Dean to tangle the covers, Sam had tried to calm him and left his arm laying on his brother's back.

Bobby sat in a nearby chair, watching his boys sleep. Dean's body jerked with dreams that plagued him. His breathing changed from calm to rapid, back to calm again. With each jerk of his body, Sam would rub his back, or tighten his grip on Dean's shirt, something to let him know he was there. Then Dean would seem to calm again.

Bobby realized Sam's reaction to his brother was all subconscious. He never woke when he responded to his brother's actions. Dean never woke when Sam calmed him. Both boys were too used to this. They were too used to the torture life has thrown at them. They had become too familiar with nightmares.

Bobby wondered if he should untangle the covers. He wondered if Dean would be frightened if he woke with his legs bound. He wondered if he should risk waking Dean. He knew he needed his rest. He knew he was in pain. But he needed to make sure his boy was okay.

He carefully moved toward the bed, resting his body on the edge of it. He started to slowly untangle the covers around Dean's legs.

"Bbbobby?" Dean's voice was so quiet Bobby almost missed it. It was so weak Dean almost couldn't speak it.

"Hey there."

"What're you doing?"

"Untangling the covers from your legs."

"Why?"

"Didn't want you to be frightened if you woke with your legs tangled."

"Thanks."

Bobby looked up at Dean for the first time since he woke. Dean had turned his head to look at Bobby. His eyes half opened and weakened. He looked like the young child he had first met. He saw the same heartache as he did the day he met the speechless boy who had lost his mother.

Bobby's heart broke as he saw the loss in the man's eyes. He had lost his mom years ago and right now he had lost his dad as well.

"Dad?" Dean questioned as Bobby stared at him.

"Made some phone calls. Called everyone I know. No one has seen him. Gonna let me know if they do."

"You didn't tell them…"

"I didn't tell them anything. Just told them not to doubt the supernatural and let me know if they know of his whereabouts."

"Thanks, Bobby."

"Sure thing kiddo."

Sam had woken and shifted so he could watch the conversation that was taking place. Once they had finished, he stretched and released a long yawn before sitting up. He rubbed his hand down is face, closing his eyes for a long blink.

He gave Dean's leg a pat. "How you doing?"

Dean shrugged. He attempted to adjust his body but failed due to his shaking arms and the pain that hit with each movement.

"That good huh?" Sam questioned as he stood to stretch and started walking away.

"Where you going?" Damn, Dean didn't mean to sound so concerned, so frightened, that his brother might leave him.

"Chill, Princess." Sam gave his brother a slight grin. "Just going to take a piss. Besides, Bobby's here."

Dean rolled his eyes and groaned with the pain that hit with his failed attempt at throwing a pillow at his little brother.

"How the hell am I supposed to piss?" Dean grumbled as Sam walked from the room.

"Got a bottle." Bobby suggested, receiving a hateful glance from Dean.

"Eww, seriously?"

Bobby shrugged with a chuckle.

"And I'm not pissing my pants or wearing a damn diaper either so don't you dare suggest it."

"Like hell, boy. I ain't about to let you lay there and piss my bed."

"Then why don't you help me up."

"You sure you're up to it?"

"Not like I have a choice." Dean grumbled as he tried to push himself to his side.

"Okay, don't you go trying to act like a damn tough guy! Let me help."

"Not like I haven't been asking."

Dean and Bobby both knew how weak Dean was. They both understood the pain he was in. But more importantly, they both understood how important it was for Dean to keep what dignity he still had. It was important that Dean was allowed to keep up his act, even if they all knew it was a lie.

With gritted teeth and sweat dripping from his forehead, Dean was standing on his feet. Bobby had a firm grip on him, holding him upright. His legs were shaking. His knuckles white from grasping anything he could to keep the pain at bay. His arms trembled and his head spun. The simple thought of movement made his stomach do flips and threatened to spew what little was inside it. His breath was ragged.

"I don't… I don't know…" Dean tried to speak but even his voice seemed to tremble and fail him.

"You got this, just take your time." Bobby assured him.

"Hey!" Sam was surprised when he entered the room he had just left moments ago. "What's going on?" Sam questioned as he rushed to his brother.

Sam stood in front of him, his hands resting gently on the sides of his brother's chest. He kept his brother from faceplanting the ground as Bobby readjusted his grip.

"Gotta… go…" Dean huffed out.

"Where you going?" Sam questioned.

"Next… in… line. Gotta… piss…" Dean forced the weakened words out between huffs of breath.

"Why didn't you just use a bottle?"

"Dignity… Dude."

"Yeah? Ever think of how the hell you're gonna manage to stand on your own once you're in there?"

"Dude… shut… up… I'll… fig… figure… it… out."

"Well I'm telling you now, I'm not holding it, or shaking it!"

"Oh… come on… Don't… be… like… that…"

"Dude, that's just grouse."

Dean shook his head slowly. "Girls… don't… complain…"

"Well I'm not a girl!"

"You… sure?"

"Jerk!"

"You… have… the… hair…"

"Shut up!"

Dean grinned slightly. "Bitch!"

Sam and Bobby had taken most of Dean's weight, keeping him upright. They walked across the room slowly, carefully. Sam kept Dean engaged in conversation as they walked. He kept his brother's mind occupied so he wouldn't dwell on the pain the movement had to be causing him. He kept his brother's mind occupied so he wouldn't fell the betrayal and hurt of seeing the door to his dad's room.

They had finally made it to the bathroom. Sam didn't dare leave his brother's side. He knew if he did there was no way Dean would remain standing. He gave a nod to Bobby, telling him without words that he would take it from there. Bobby slipped out of the room leaving Sam and Dean alone. He was quiet, making sure Dean was unaware of their actions.

Dean faultered once he was standing in front of the toilet. He had reached for his waistband and tipped forward, causing him to slam both hands against the wall in front of him.

"I got you." Sam assured him in a calming voice as he tightened his hold.

"Don't… don't leave?"

"I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

Dean nodded as he pulled one hand from the wall, placing his trust in his brother. He tugged himself from the waistband of his pants. Sam could feel his body tense under his grip. He could feel the trembles in his brother's muscles. It seemed to worsen as he relieved himself into the toilet.

Exhaustion had set in. He secretly wished he could have asked his brother to help with the simple act of shaking and putting himself back into his pants. But he didn't. He couldn't. No matter how hard it was, he still had a slice of dignity he needed to keep.

"Hey, Sammy."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"How about we get you back to the room before you thank me." Sam chuckled. "Might not wanna thank me once I force you to walk all the way back."

"Aww… you're… you're not… gonna… gonna carry… me?"

Sam had started shuffling his brother toward the door, thankful Bobby was there waiting as soon as he opened it. Sam figured he would try to keep Dean's attention in conversation again. He knew he was tired. He knew he was hurting. He knew exhaustion wasn't even the word to describe his brother anymore.

He also knew he would carry his brother if he needed to, but as long as Dean was awake and talking, he would let his brother keep what was left of him and walk as far as he could.

"What are you? My baby brother now?"

"Dude… Shut up!"

"Need a diaper next time?" Sam joked.

Dean pulled his arm away from Bobby and took a weakened slug at his brother. He tipped with the swing and almost collapsed against Sam. Quickly, Sam readjusted his hold and grabbed Dean around the chest, lowering him to the ground against a wall in the hallway.

"Whoah! Easy there, Princess."

"Shhh… Shut… up… Bitch!"

Sam chuckled. "Who's the bitch now?"

"You."

Sam smiled. He didn't allow Dean to lower all the way. He used the wall to help keep his brother from sitting on the floor. Dean fought his way out of his brother's grip. His face screwed tight. His jaw clenched. He released a painful groan as he put his body into a seated position against the wall.

"Hey man, why don't you adjust yourself a little? It'll hurt less."

Sam tried to get his brother to move where he would have less discomfort, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears. Dean's gaze was locked, his hearing shut down. Sam followed his brother's eyes, noticing his site was locked on the door that entered their dad's room. The men had all fallen silent until Dean broke through the silence.

"It's… it's my…my fault."

"Dean…" Sam tried to stop his brother's thoughts but Dean quickly interrupted.

"It is… Sam. You don't… you don't know. It is." He looked over at his brother.

"We've already discussed this." Bobby interrupted.

"Don't… don't… make it… less… true."

"Don't make it any more true either."

"Why… Why won't… you… listen to… to me?"

"I'm listening, and I understand." Bobby knelt in front of Dean. "But I don't hear any truth in the words, boy."

Dean's head was pressed against the wall, his head leaning to the side. His body weakening with the pain. Bobby had placed his hands on Dean's shoulders as he spoke and shifted Dean to a more comfortable position.

"Bobby."

"Yeah, boy?"

"We need to find Dad."

"We will."

"I need to know that he's okay."

"He is."

"You don't know that."

"He's a Winchester, he's fine."

Dean leaned forward and rested his forehead against Bobby's chest with a moan.

"Hurting?" Bobby questioned as he ran his hand through Dean's sweat soaked hair.

"Yeah." He mumbled into Bobby's chest.

"Sam, go get your brother something for pain. And a glass of water. Better bring something easy on his stomach too or it'll make him sick."

Sam nodded and quickly left to retrieve what Bobby requested.

"Alright, lets get you back to the room." Bobby stated once Sam was gone.

"Don't wanna." Dean mumbled, his face still pressed against Bobby's chest. His body was limp and motionless.

"Where you wanna go then?"

Dean lifted his head. His eyes were drifting closed. His breathing becoming labored. "Down… downsttt." Dean's voice faultered, unable to finish the simple word he was trying to say.

"Why would you wanna go downstairs?" Bobby had gotten enough of what Dean was saying to understand.

"I… I don't wanna… Bobby…"

Sam had made his way back to his brother. As soon as Dean saw him top the stairs he had instantly stopped talking. Bobby have his arm a pat.

"Here need you to eat this." Bobby said, giving Dean a protein bar.

He wasn't too happy about putting food in his stomach right now but knew Bobby was right, if he didn't eat with heavy pain meds then he would get sick. So, he did what was asked of him without complaint.

Once the food was finished Bobby gave Dean the pain medicine and waited for it to start taking effect. Before speaking he had given Sam a look that said not to ask questions or complain.

"Sam, how about we help your brother get down these stairs. Might do him some good to get a change of scenery."

"Uh, yeah sure." Sam was clearly confused but did as Bobby requested without questions or complaints.

It would have been easier if they could have carried him. They all knew that was true. But they also knew it was important that Dean not be forced to lose every ounce of himself.

Once they got Dean to the couch they made sure he was in a comfortable position.

"You good?" Sam questioned.

"Yeah." Dean's voice was one of pure exhaustion.

"Get some rest. We'll both be around now that you're down where we can research things."

"Don't need anyone to be around."

"Yeah, okay." Sam rolled his eyes as he turned away.

Bobby patted Dean's leg. "Get some rest."

"Hey Bobby."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

Bobby nodded and walked away, leaving Dean what he had left of himself.


	84. Chapter 84

**CHAPTER 84**

Bobby made sure to keep Dean as pain free as possible. He didn't always inform Sam of his actions each time he gave Dean medicine for pain. Dean asked him not to. He couldn't let his little brother know how much pain he was really in. He needed to protect him from the emotions that came with the knowledge their own dad caused this.

Bobby knew that was typical Dean behavior, and right now, it was important that Dean acted as much like himself as possible. Dean needed to feel the strength of the family. He needed to know, even though his dad wasn't there, he was still taken care of. He still had a family he was a part of. He still had someone he could look out for, someone who would look out for him.

Dean slept on and off for the next few days. Mostly slept, only waking with nightmares and pain. It was a routine he wished he could escape. He was tired of what felt like a constant. He was tired of catching a bad break every time he turned around. He needed something to change. He couldn't figure out why, what seemed like a sudden change, his life went from bad to worse. He couldn't understand what wrong he had done to deserve what was being put on him.

He was thankful for the day he woke and his pain seemed to ease enough that he could manage to stay awake without being drugged. He had also started to, very carefully, adjust his body so he could sit on the couch. It was as close to normal as he would get for the time being, it was a change he was willing to accept. No matter how small of a change, at least it was a change for the good.

Dean sat with his face in his hands. He was completely lost in his own thoughts. He couldn't even begin to understand any of this. It had seemed like the past year was full nothing but bad luck. He had felt more pain than he ever thought possible. He had more heartaches than any heart should be able to take. His head felt so messed up. Everything that he had been so certain of was no longer a certainty. He was feeling that the only thing he could be certain of was that life would deal him a hand full of pain.

He couldn't do this anymore. He needed a break. He needed a win. For once, he needed something to work out for him. He needed his dad. He needed his brother. He needed his family the way it used to be. And he needed this damn pain to go away. He needed his heart to beat again.

The last thing Dean expected at that moment was for his world to be turned upside down… again. He was so lost in his thoughts he couldn't help but jump when his phone vibrated in his pants pocket. Between the pain that slammed into him when his body jumped, and the surprise of someone calling his phone, he fumbled as he tried to get his hands, and mind, to work.

It was far too much of an effort than it should have been to pull the phone from his pocket. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the caller ID. He must have made a noise, at some point, that drew Sam's attention into the room where his brother sat.

"Dad?"

Dean's voice was shaking. His heart stopped. His breath froze. Sam stepped closer as he watched his brother.

"Yes sir."

Bobby drew his attention to the boys as he walked into the room where Dean sat and stood beside Sam.

"Uh…"

Dean's hands shook. His eyes darted to his brother then back to the floor.

"Yyyyes sirrr."

Bobby huffed as he pushed Sam out of his way and made his way beside Dean. He grabbed the phone from Dean's hands, leaving him speechless and trembling.

"John!" Bobby's voice was full of frustration and exhaustion. "You have some nerve calling your boy right now!"

Dean and Sam shared looks and Sam instantly made his way to Dean's side. He carefully sat beside his trembling brother.

"NO! I don't give a damn what the hell you wanna talk to him about. You have some nerve calling him after what you did!"

Sam rested his hand on top of Dean's. An attempt to stop the trembling.

"Ah balls! You're one hell of a damn idjit, John Winchester."

Dean couldn't seem to look anywhere except at Bobby. His heart skipped several beats and he wasn't even sure if he had taken a breath since his phone vibrated.

"Fine, I'll tell you what. You wanna talk to your boy then you come here. No funny business either. And don't you dare think any of us will be dumb enough to leave you alone with Dean or anyone else."

Dean pealed his eyes from Bobby and looked over at Sam. Fear radiated from his glassy green eyes.

"Fine!"

Bobby slammed his fist on the nearby table as he tossed Dean's phone onto the couch beside him.

"Your Daddy'll be here in about half a day."

"What!" Sam was pissed.

"Says he's gotta talk to Dean."

"What the hell, Bobby! You can't possibly be okay with that."

"Sam, it ain't like I got much of a choice."

"And, why not!"

"Because, in case you missed it, your brother's been begging us to find him."

"Yeah, and?"

"And, your daddy says he's not possessed anymore, and he's gotta talk to your brother."

"What's you point?"

"Don't you think he at least deserves that?"

"Right here." Dean's voice was so quiet they barely heard him. He hadn't even moved since Bobby said his dad was coming.

"Look." Bobby sighed as he sat beside Dean. "I ain't gonna let him get to anyone. Possessed or not. He ain't gonna have a chance to hurt anyone else, not right now."

"How you gonna prevent that?" Sam spit out in anger.

Sam hadn't changed his mindset as easily as Bobby had. He didn't care if Dean had finally decided to speak or not. He wasn't happy about their dad being back and he was going to make sure everyone knew how he felt.

"For starters, gonna keep him in a demon trap. Give him some holy water before he ever enters the house. Tie him down. I don't know Sam, why don't you tell me what I should do."

"You shouldn't let him come near Dean. That's what you should do."

"Again, right here." Dean couldn't help but mumble the words around his thoughts.

"Yeah, and how long do you expect to be here if he comes back around?" Sam was far too angry for rational thought.

"He said he's not possessed." Dean mumbled.

"And demons don't lie." Sam rolled his eyes with his sarcastic remark.

"Give 'm a chance." Dean huffed.

"Seriously? You just wanna let him back in here? What! You didn't get enough? You enjoy it that damn much that you need more?"

Sam's anger blew out in proportions he wasn't able to control. Dean's anger matched his brother's as he forced himself from the couch and standing face to face with Sam.

"What the hell is your problem, man? You're not the one who had to go through it! What the hell does it matter to you?"

"God, Dean, are you that damn stupid? You don't see how much we go through when you get hurt? Who the hell do you think helps you move and walk? Who the hell do you think is there when you have your stupid nightmares?"

"Well, excuse the hell out of me for being such an inconvenience to you!"

Dean quickly turned to leave. He needed to get away before it all became too much. Sam grabbed Dean's shoulder, spinning him back around to look at him.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Upstairs, Sam! Now that we know where Dad is, I'm going upstairs to be alone!"

"We don't know where he is!"

"He's a half day away, Bobby just said that!"

"And I repeat… Demons lie, Dean!"

"I know that!"

"Then why the hell are you so quick to believe this one? Because its Dad? Because you secretly liked being with him? Because you had to go back to him and get fucked again?"

Dean froze, all thought process froze with him.

"What?" Even the level of his voice seemed to freeze to a quiet squeak.

"Oh god, don't tell me you don't remember telling us how you went to him for sex. How you were only going to use your mouth but it became so much more."

"Sam… I… uh… It's not… it's not like that." Dean stuttered over every word his mind could think of to say.

"What happened, Dean? Did it get too kinky? Hurt too much? What? Huh?"

Sam stepped forward as he spoke, forcing Dean to take a step back each time. Sam's grip on his brother's arm tightened with each phrase he said. His fingers digging deep into Dean's tender skin.

"Sam." Dean's voice sounded too broken.

"What? Do you want me like that now? You just gonna take anyone now?"

"Sam… Please."

"I don't even know why the hell I believed you in the first place. How the hell do you not expect me to think maybe you're the one who's possessed? Maybe you coaxed Dad into fucking you, then you threw him out like a piece of trash."

"You know better."

"Do I? It seems to me you've been being awfully selfish lately."

Dean pulled his eyes away to see what the back of his legs had bumped into. The coffee table. Great.

"It's been all about you, hasn't it?" Sam continued. "Dean. Dean. Dean. That's the only person you think should even matter."

Dean couldn't move any farther from his brother, not with the table behind his legs. Sam pressed his body against Dean's. Dean's body swayed under the pressure, until he fell backwards. His back pressed against the table that was now under him, his brother's chest pressing down on his. His entire Bobby seemed to melt into Dean's.

"Sam." Dean practically sobbed his brother's name.

"Sam's not here." His brother whispered in his ear.

"Okay, that's enough!" Bobby interrupted.

He hadn't heard what Sam whispered, but knew Dean's voice belonged to someone who would crack any moment. It was only his brother's name, but the tone that simple name held was one of desperation. He pulled Sam by his shoulders off Dean.

"You." Bobby pointed at Dean. "Go upstairs, or where ever it was you were going. And you." He gave Sam's arm a tug where he was still holding on at. "Leave your brother alone and grow the hell up!"

"Yes sir." Sam replied sheepishly. "Come on, Dean." Sam made his way to his brother's side. "I'll help you upstairs."

"No! I don't need your help." Dean pushed his brother's hands away from him.

"Come on man. I was just messing with you."

Dean shook his head and retreated to the couch behind him. "I'm good. I don't even want to go up there anymore."

"Stop being such a cry baby!" Sam rolled his eyes. "Besides, you stink man, you need to shower and clean clothes."

"Said I'm fine."

"Dean, its fine. Do what you need to do." Bobby stated as he turned and walked away from the brothers.

Dean jumped to his feet and followed Bobby, leaving Sam in the room alone.

"Hey, Bobby?"

"Yeah?"

"How is it that you don't get possessed?"

"Got my ways, boy."

"Yeah, and what's that?"

Bobby paused. "You asking for yourself or someone else?"

"Just asking."

Bobby didn't miss the constant glances Dean gave to Sam. The worry and slight fear in his eyes each time he looked at his brother.

"Sam?" Bobby's question was barely loud enough for Dean to hear.

Dean kept his eyes on his brother and shrugged his shoulders.

Bobby quickly turned, words spewing out of his mouth before he was completely looking at Sam. The exorcism was floating in the air around them before either brother knew what was happening.

Sam's head jerked. A hateful laugh filled their ears. He dropped to his knees. The laugh drew silent as his head tilted back and his mouth opened like a silent scream. Black smoke filled the space around the words Bobby chanted. It poured from Sam's mouth, wrapping around the air and exited through a broken seal around a window.

"Hmm, need to fix that seal." Bobby stated once it was over.

Dean rushed to his brother's side. Sam's body was teetering on his knees. Dean grabbed him as he tilted forward. His arm wrapped around his shoulders. His other hand pressed against the side of Sam's face. Sam's head was turned to the side, pushed against Dean's heart. His chest pressed against Dean's.

"I got you little brother. I got you." Dean repeated until Sam seemed to come back around to being himself.

Dean grasped his brother's shoulders, pulling him away so he could look at him. He quickly removed the grasp and placed a hand on each side of Sam's head. He moved his hands down his face, over his shoulders, and down his arms before Sam was able to stop him.

"I'm fine, Dean."

"Just making sure."

"I… I don't know what just happened."

"Dude, you just vomited black smoke."

"I what?"

"Yeah, you okay now? You back to you?"

"Uh… yeah… I think so."

Dean nodded, giving his brother's shoulders a solid pat.

"Did… did I hurt you?"

"No man. You didn't hurt me." Dean's eyebrows met above his nose, confused why Sam would ask that.

"Why would you think you did something to your brother?" Bobby questioned as he knelt beside the boys.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know. It's like… It's like I saw him hurt? Maybe? I can't really explain it. Like maybe I wanted to do something to him? Like it played out in my head or something?"

"You didn't do anything to me, Sam."

"Dean, how did you know your brother was possessed?" Bobby questioned.

"I don't know. Big brother instinct I guess?"

Sam looked at his brother, giving him an expression that said there was more to it than that.

Dean sighed. "Its just the stuff you said, Sam. It wasn't you." Dean chewed his bottom lip for a moment. "Like I said, big brother instinct."

"What did I say?"

"Just… I don't know. Ask Bobby."

"Dean! Why the hell won't you answer me?"

"Because, I don't want to. Okay!"

"Because it bothered you? You told me I didn't hurt you!"

"You didn't!"

"Yes, I did."

"How?"

"I mean if words that came from my mouth stung, don't you think that's a form of hurt?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Sammy."

"Dean!"

"What?"

"What did I say?"

"The last thing you said… when I said your name… you whispered in my ear… 'Sam's not here'."

"And then what?"

"Nothing. I wouldn't let whatever that freak wanted to do happen. I followed Bobby out of the room. He got rid of it. End of story."

"Why do I feel like there's something you're not telling me?"

"Because, you're a freak, Sammy."

Dean rolled his eyes at Sam and did his best to steady himself as he pushed off his knees and to a standing position. He couldn't let anyone know the pain he was feeling at that moment. He just wanted to get away from everyone. He needed a moment. He needed to be alone.

"I'm gonna go shower and change into some clean clothes." Dean announced once he was standing. "Alone." He added as Sam started to move himself off the floor.

Bobby nodded. "Hey, Sam, come help me get some things ready for your dad while Dean cleans up."

"Yes sir." Sam replied.

Dean headed upstairs as the other two worked on getting everything ready for John's arrival.

Once upstairs, Dean dropped to his knees in the middle of his room. He needed, more than anything, for this day to be over. He needed for the people he loved to stop being possessed. He needed the fear that radiated from him to be gone.

He thought of the time, not too long ago, that he had tried so desperately to end his own suffering. Sure, it may have been for different reasons than now, but his heart ached with the realization that he wished nothing more, at this moment, than the simple wish that he would have succeeded in his attempt.

He quickly shook the thought from his head. How could he even think that? How the hell could he be so selfish? His dad and his brother needed him more now than they ever have. Instead of worrying about how he could help them, he was daydreaming about ending his own pain.

He couldn't suppress the groan of pain and discomfort as he pushed himself off his knees into a standing position. He slowly made his way to his clothes and retrieved a clean pair of boxers. When did he start checking to make sure they weren't stained with blood? Dean cringed at that thought as he gathered a pair of sweatpants, t shirt, and a hoodie. The thought of wearing his normal jeans and flannel made his stomach flop.

He made his way to the bathroom. He pressed the door extra hard after it was closed, making sure it was all the way closed, making sure he was safe behind the locked door. He remembered the time, only a few months ago, that he was scared of the closed door. He was uncertain of the pain that would be caused by the enclosure he was forced into.

The thought of being forced caused him to drop to his knees in front of the toilet. He was so tired of being forced into so much in his life. He was tired of the pain so many people caused him. He was tired of feeling like everything he did was wrong. He was tired of fearing his own thoughts and actions. Tired of the uncertainty of what others would do.

He violently emptied his stomach into the toilet bowl. His body spasmed with the tears that flooded his eyes. He groaned as he rolled his body onto his side, his ribs falling against the tub. He wrapped his arms tightly around his torso as he allowed himself the freedom of letting his tears escape with the heartache and pain.

He laid on the bathroom floor for what felt like hours before pulling himself from the wreck he had become. He rolled his body over, pushing himself onto his hands and knees. The movement forced him to push onto his knees in front of the toilet one more time.

"Forced" just that simple word caused his body to violently dry heave and his stomach to turn inside out. He reached and flushed the toilet one last time. He watched as the remainder of his suffering swirled and disappeared down the drain.

He removed his clothing, carefully, one piece at a time. He thought about how many times it seemed his shirt was ripped from his body. No one ever seemed to take their time. No one was careful when they removed his shirt. It seemed like it was the thing to do. Like everyone knew how much he hated his shirts to be torn from his body.

It was like no one knew the twinge of discomfort feeling the cloth tighten against his chest. It left marks every time. He had so many skin burns against his chest, so many marks that looked like a simple rash. His nipples had been pained and raw far too many times. It was the slightest of torture that seemed to hurt the most.

It was the pain of knowing how they would take the extra time to cause the uncomfortable torture that sent chills down his spine. It wasn't anything that would be used to please the men who hurt him. It was caused for the pure pleasure of knowing how much it messed with Dean's mind.

He unbuckled his pants, sliding them down his thighs and off his ankles. He shivered with the pang of vomit building in the back of his throat. This act was one that depended on the man in charge. Some would force his pants off, some would force them, tearing them, cutting them. It was only an act that happened very few times. Once his pants were removed, it left him opened to anything anyone else wanted to do to him.

There could be several guys around. Several who would come and go. Or, there could only be one. It didn't matter. His pants only had to be removed once. Once they were off, the only thing that kept him separated from the pain was his boxers. Much the same as this very moment.

He sat on the edge of the toilet seat. He remembered each time his pants were removed. He remembered the fear that would flood in each time. It was the fear of knowing what was going to happen. The fear of knowing there was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could do to stop the dooming pain that would come. Nothing to stop the aching of his heart, the spinning of his mind.

He shuttered as he wiped his face with his hands. He pushed himself back into a standing position. Slowly, with shaking hands, he pulled his waist free from his boxers, letting them slide down his legs and onto the floor.

This was it. This was the simple act that always led to more than he could have ever imagined. Most of the time, once his boxers were off, they wouldn't be replaced. This could be a one single act, much like his pants. Or, as he had been shown, they could be replaced. They could be pulled back up, only to be removed again.

Each time, this simple act would cause bile to form. If he was fortunate to have anything in his stomach, this is what would cause it all to exit. This is what doom felt like. This is what pending torture was. This. This simple thing. This simple thing that everyone done every day of their lives. This act that took place each time a person changed or showered.

This. Caused so much fear and heartache. This was more than his shaking legs could handle. As he stepped over the edge of the tub, as he stepped into the scalding hot water that flowed from the shower head, he fell to his knees.

He allowed himself to feel the sensation of his body being violently attacked by the dry heaves that slammed into him. He allowed his head to embrace the spinning, swirling sensation that filled him. He couldn't think. Rationality was frozen in place. His body heaved as he fell to his side.

He laid against the cold porcelain of the tub. His body shivered under the hot water. Memories flooded in. Thoughts filled him. He laid there, not moving. No will to do anything but allow the darkness to consume him.

He closed his eyes tightly against the world as he mumbled quietly to himself over and over, hoping to believe the words he said. "It will all be okay. It will all be okay. It will all be okay."


	85. Chapter 85

**CHAPTER 85**

"Do you think he's okay?" Sam couldn't help but keep his focus on the stairs where his brother just disappeared to.

"He'll be fine." Bobby grumbled. "You gonna help me or not?"

"Bobby! I'm serious."

"So am I. If you wanna make sure your brother's safe, then stop worrying about him right now and help me get this done before your daddy shows up."

Sam knelt on the floor and started painting the symbols Bobby gave him. "Do you think Dad's telling the truth? About not being possessed?"

"Don't know, that's why we're doing all we can to contain him, and keep your brother safe."

A few long moments passed in silence.

"Maybe I should go check on him."

Sam broke the silence. He hadn't realized he had stopped helping Bobby and started staring at the ceiling.

"Damn idgit." Bobby mumbled.

"Bobby. I haven't heard the shower yet."

"Look, boy, your brother ain't gotta ask you about every movement he makes. He's been through a hell of a lot lately. Give him a break will ya?"

"Bobby, did I do something to him? When… you know… when I wasn't me."

"Don't really know." Bobby admitted without stopping what he was doing. "You know your brother, if you did, he wouldn't say anything."

"Bobby." Sam sighed.

"Sam, I didn't rightfully see anything. But, the stuff you said, there's no way it doesn't bother him. I don't know how the hell your words didn't stab him through the heart. But I didn't hear you tell him what he said, that Sam wasn't there anymore. So, I can't say there wasn't anything I missed."

Sam sighed and shook his head slightly.

"Sam., I know that when I stopped you two, you had walked him backwards until he ran into the table. Then, you pushed him down onto it. Your body was on top of his. We all know the shit that can do to his head."

"Yeah."

"I don't know, I can't say for sure something small didn't happen that I missed. But I know, before that, he had said he was going upstairs. Then, when I stopped you boys, it was like he was scared of you. He refused to go upstairs. And, knowing what we know now, it could have been because you offered to help him." Bobby shrugged.

"Bobby, I think I was going to hurt him."

"How so?"

"I… In my head… I think I had plans on hurting him. The same way Dad did."

"Is that why you asked if you had hurt him?"

"Yes."

"I see. Well, you didn't do anything like that."

"Good. But, is he… Is he okay with… With the words I said?"

"Don't know. I'm not the one to ask."

"Then I should go ask him."

Sam started to stand. Bobby pressed on his shoulder stopping him.

"Give him some time."

Sam sighed. "Yeah okay." He agreed once he heard the shower turn on.

He worked on helping Bobby finish his preparation for their dad. He hasn't realized how much time had passed until Bobby asked if he wanted lunch.

"Bobby! We've been working on this for an hour!" Sam exclaimed in shock.

"Yeah, so."

"So, the shower's still running."

"Maybe you should go check on your brother." Bobby tried his hardest to keep his instant concern from his voice.

Sam didn't hesitate. He hurried to make his way out of the room and up the stairs.

"Dean?"

His knock on the door didn't receive a response so he called his brother's name. Still no response.

Another bang on the door. "Dean!" His brother's name a little louder.

No response.

A loud bang and rattle of the door. "DEAN!" His brother's name was shouted through the door.

No response.

"Damn it, Dean! Answer me before I unlock this damn door!" Sam shouted.

Bobby had learned many years ago to keep a key that unlocked his inside doors in a safe place. It had saved him a lot of broken doors, especially in situations like this.

Sam quickly unlocked the door with the key he had retrieved. He rushed to the shower, pulling back the curtain. He had heard his brother's mumbling as soon as he opened the door. He didn't understand what he was saying until he was close enough to touch him.

"Hey, Dean."

Sam kept his words quiet, making sure not to startle his brother. He reached through the water, it was ice cold. The hot water had run out a long while ago. He placed a hand on Dean's shoulder, feeling the tremble under his touch.

"Hey, Dean."

Sam repeated as he gave his brother a gentle shake. He reached with his free hand and turned the water off. He then reached up, without breaking contact, and retrieved a new by towel, placing it over his brother's shivering body.

"Hey, Dean."

Sam repeated, trying to break the trance his brother seemed to be under. Dean laid, shivering and mumbling. His voice sounded like it was raw and worn out. Sam figured he had repeating his chant for most of the time he was in there, possibly the entire hour the water was running.

He carefully pulled Dean from the bottom of the tub, laying hi on the dry floor. He sat with his back against the wall, Dean's body laying in his arms against his chest.

"Hey, Dean. I need you to come back to me, okay? You hear me? I need you to snap out of it, man. I need you to come back to me, Dean. We have a big day ahead. You gotta snap out of this. Please, Dean. I need you."

Dean had stopped mumbling. Silence filled the room. Sam's tears dripped slowly, falling on his brother's head. He closed his eyes. Thoughts filled his head. Memories of how much they had been through. Memories of how broken this family had become. How damage, and in Dean's words, bruised, they had found themselves becoming.

Sam wondered if they would ever be the family they once were. He wondered if they would ever be the people they once were. He wondered if anything would feel right again.

"Sssam?" Dean's voice sounded like it hurt to speak.

"Dean! Hey!" Sam was clearly shocked his brother was coherent again.

"Why are you crying?"

Sam huffed a laugh. "Just thinking."

Dean nodded, pressing his body closer to Sam's.

"You okay, man? You back with me?"

Dean opened his eyes again and looked around the small room. "Why the hell are we laying on the bathroom floor?"

"It's the most romantic place I could find." Sam joked as he purposefully pulled Dean tighter into his arms.

"Dude! You need to redefine your definition of romantic." Dean scoffed as he pulled himself away from his brother. "Could have at least dressed me first." Dean huffed when he realized he was only covered with a towel.

"What, and ruin the romance?"

"Dude, get out! Let me get dressed."

Sam laughed. "Fine, but if you take too long, I'll be back."

"Thanks for the warning Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean closed the door behind Sam. He released a long sigh as he leaned over the sink. He stopped to take a long look into the mirror.

"Pull yourself together, Dean." He whispered to the image that stared back at him. He quickly dressed and made his way downstairs where Bobby and Sam waited.

"Feeling better?" Bobby questioned as soon as he noticed Dean.

"Uh, yeah… I think so."

"Good. Your dad shouldn't be too much longer. How about you get you something to eat while you still can."

Bobby had gone upstairs to check on the boys and saw Dean laying in a mumbling trance in Sam's arms. He saw the brokenness he was experiencing. He also saw that Sam had everything under control, the best he could. So, Bobby decided to leave the two alone while he finished what needed to be done.

He always had a way of knowing how things would affect his boys. He also always seemed to know exactly what they needed and when. Bobby had somehow known that Dean had emptied his stomach earlier and that his dad's visit would probably yield the same results. If he had any hope in getting nutrients and fluids into Dean now would be the only time for the rest of the day.

He didn't leave much room for argument as he instantly made his way into the kitchen and started preparing food. He just expected Dean and Sam to follow. There was no room for argument against his thoughts either.

"Figured a sandwich a soup would be easy enough on your stomach."

Bobby started filling the air with anything besides silence as the boys followed him into the room.

"The way I see it," Bobby continued. "You're both gonna need something light, hopefully that'll help keep it down. Don't exactly know what this visit is gonna hold."

The brothers look at each other then back at Bobby. Neither of them spoke a word as they slowly made their way to the nearby table and sat in their designated seats.

"Don't really know what that damn idgit has to say anyhow." Bobby completed as he turned with a plate in each hand. He sat the sandwiches in front of the boys then retrieved their bowls of soup.

"What about you?" Dean questioned when Bobby didn't retrieve a third plate or bowl.

"I already ate while the two of you cuddled on the bathroom floor."

"Speaking of." Dean talked around the spoonful he had just put in his mouth. "What the hell happened in there?"

"You tell me."

Bobby shook his head as Sam also spoke around the mouthful he was chewing.

"I dunno." Dean mumbled as his cheeks lightly blushed.

"You had some type of a melt down and Sam stayed with you until you came back around." Bobby answered, receiving a confused look from Dean.

"Look," Booby attempted to clarify his words. "All I know is you went upstairs to take a shower. It was damn near impossible to keep your brother from checking on your every move. After the shower ran for damn near an hour, I let him go check on you. Neither of you came downstairs so I followed Sam's actions."

Bobby paused to take a drink of the whiskey he had been holding. "When I went up their you were a mumbling mess and Sam wasn't gonna leave you. He had it under control the best as anyone could so I figured I'd finish with things that needed to be done and you'd come around eventually."

Dean nodded.

"What happened, Dean?" Sam almost cringed at the childlike softness of his own voice.

"I… I don't know, Sam. I guess what you said while you were filled with black smoke got me thinking. And… and I guess I just… in a way… got lost in my thoughts."

"Look, I don't know what I said…"

"Nothing you haven't said before."

Dean didn't mean to interrupt his brother. He didn't mean to speak at all. In fact, even the volume of his voice proved it was more of an outward thought that escaped his mind.

"Dean." Too much sympathy, Sam, too much sympathy.

"Sam, don't."

Dean quickly stopped the conversation. He couldn't handle it right now, not with his dad coming. He knew he had to keep a level head and he knew the conversation his brother was wanting would take away any rational thought he had left.

Dean's head shot up and his eyes widened as he looked at Bobby. The roar of the truck engine was unmistakable.

"Stay inside. No matter what, don't you dare think of leaving this house."

It was a forceful order that Bobby barked out. One that left no room for disagreement, or disobedience. He shot his glance at both brothers, making sure they understood their lives may depend on this order.

With the sound of a closing door, Bobby quickly stood and made his way to the door.

"Dean, you'll be fine. Just stay calm and keep your head."

Bobby wasn't sure why, his back was turned to the boys as he spoke, but he had this overwhelming need to remind Dean of the words he said. He quickly exited the house to meet John before he thought of walking through the door.

He sized up his friend that stood before him. John had frozen in his step when Bobby walked out the door. He looked worn down, like he had gone 10 rounds with the devil himself. His eyes were bloodshot. They looked as if he was only able to bury the memories of what he had done to his son through the comfort of a bottle.

His slightly stumbled walk told Bobby he shouldn't have even driven there, that perhaps it took more bottles than just a few to help him cope with the pain he had caused. He looked as if he hadn't slept in days. He had obviously been crying.

"Bobby." John spoke as soon as he knew it was safe to do so. "I just need to talk to him. Hell, he ain't even gotta talk, all he needs to do is listen. I just wanna tell him what I know now. I'm not here to bash him or even ask for forgiveness."

"Good. Cause you sure as hell don't deserve it."

"I know."

"Here, drink this." Bobby held out a flask.

"Holy water?"

"You expect any different?"

"No, not from you."

John had cautiously made his way to the steps where Bobby had stood. He retrieved the flask and swallowed a big swig.

"See. Told you. He's not inside me anymore." John reminded him.

Bobby nodded and stepped to the top of the front porch. He made sure he stood in front of the door and watched John carefully.

John walked up the middle of the steps and stood in front of Bobby.

"How many devil traps you put between the first step and the door?" John questioned.

"Enough." Bobby huffed.

John nodded. "Good, I'd hope you would protect my boys."

"Someone has to."

"I only wished you would have protected them this well earlier."

"Didn't know I had to."

"Yeah, I didn't either. Bobby, its worse than either of us could have thought. I don't know why, but ole' yellow eyes shared his knowledge with me. I wish he hadn't. God, I wish he hadn't." John sighed as he sat in the nearby rocker.

"Bobby." John continued. "I'll be honest. I don't know if I wanna see my boys. Especially Dean. I don't wanna see what I did to him. I don't want to see if he's broken. I sure as hell don't wanna see that hurt I know is in his eyes."

John shook his head at the thought of what he had done to his own son. "But I know things now, and he deserves to know them too. He deserves to hear them from me. He deserves to have the choice if he wants to see me or not."

He looked up at Bobby. "Bobby, I need you to make sure he wants to see me. If he doesn't. I can tell you what I know. You can tell him when he's ready."

Bobby took a moment to run John's words through his head. Once he thought things through, he shook his head. "Not gonna do that."

"What! Why the hell not?"

"You've already put that boy in enough damn situations he hasn't wanted to be in. His whole life he's had to agree to things he never should have. This. This wouldn't be any different. He can't say no to you, we both know that. I'm not gonna allow him to carry the guilt of saying yes if it's not what he really wants. You're already here. Let's just get this over with."

John nodded. "Okay. But, Bobby, if you think I need to leave. If you think it's too much for him, I need you to tell me. I need to know."

"If you don't know your boy well enough by now then you don't deserve to be told." Bobby sounded too angry.

John nodded, pointing his hand toward the door. "Shall we?"

Bobby opened the door, allowing John to follow him inside the home.

John took a moment to look over his surroundings. Not much had changed, but he knew it was what he couldn't see that protected his sons. He knew that under the rugs were symbols. He knew there would be devil traps set up around the home. He looked up and saw a perfectly placed devil trap on the ceiling above him. He swallowed hard and looked at Dean.

Dean was standing in a corner against the wall. His arms were folded across his chest. His face was emotionless. His eyes spoke an entirely different story. They were glossed over. They held so much emotions it was too painful for John to hold eye contact.

Dean stood leaned against the corner with a pair of baggy sweatpants covering his lower body. Instead of his normal boots he wore sneakers. He had a thick hoodie covering his upper half. John knew under it was a t-shirt. Dean was always sure to dress in layers of clothes. John shuttered as the image reminded him of the memories when this painful journey had begun.

He was so glad to see the day that Dean had dressed back into his normal attire. He knew the physical pain had kept him from wearing tight fitting clothes, but also, they served as a type of security. He knew that Dean felt safer being able to hide away in the clothes he wore.

He remembers when Dean was younger, he always enjoyed loose fitting clothes when something had him emotional. If he would have paid attention, he would have always been able to tell when Dean was scared or overly emotional. Even if he wasn't able to change his entire wardrobe, he would at least wear a loose jacket that would easily surround him in comfort and give him a secret place to hide.

Sam stood near his brother. Not close enough that he was suffocating, but close enough he could react if any danger came his way. He held far too much anger in his stance. His shoulders rested lightly against the wall behind him. His arms were held tightly across his chest. One foot solid on the floor, the other pressed against the wall he was leaning on.

Sam's lips were tightly held together. His eyes were as cold as his face. His body language warned that he wouldn't hesitate to kill if that's what it took to protect his brother. John wanted to badly to order his youngest son to stand down. But he knew he wasn't in the place to shout out any orders. He pushed the thought down.

"Sit." Bobby ordered, pointing to the single chair that sat in the center of a clearly drawn devil trap.

Both his sons stood behind the trap, positioned so that anyone who approached them would have to make their way through the trap first. John did as he was told. Once seated, Bobby entered the trap and secured John's wrists and ankles with rope.

"I told you, I'm not here to hurt anyone." John reminded him.

"Just taking precautions." Bobby reminded back.

"Don't you think I've walked through enough traps to prove I'm no longer possessed?"

"Don't you think your boys deserve to know they are safe?"

John nodded with understanding.

Once he was secured Bobby started spewing out the words of an exorcism. He was pretty certain John was telling the truth but he had to be completely sure. He had to let Dean and Sam know they were both safe as well. If anything went wrong Bobby needed them to know he tried the best he could.

Once the words were complete without any response he nodded at the boys. It was Bobby's way of letting them know their dad had passed every test and as far as Bobby was concerned, he had done everything he could to ensure their safety.

"Okay." Bobby stepped outside of the trap but remained in front of John. "Say what you've come to say. No funny business. If Dean, or myself, wants you to leave then you leave. No questions. No arguments. You got that?"

"Yeah. I got it."


	86. Chapter 86

**CHAPTER 86**

Bobby leaned against a shelf behind him, allowing John to say what he had come to say.

John wished Dean would stand in front of him. He was the one he came to talk to. But he understood if he didn't. He had started talking to the air, knowing his son could hear him. His eyes looking as far back as they could, hoping to at least get a glimpse of the son he so badly injured.

"Dean, I hope you know and understand that I was possessed. It was the same demon that killed your mom and Jess. And it told me things and showed me things. Things I wish I never had to see. Things I wished I didn't know, but I think you deserve to know."

John drew in a deep breath. He wasn't sure why he felt so nervous. "First things first, it's coming after Sam. It wants to possess him."

"It did." Dean stated mater of factly.

"Oh, god."

"He didn't do anything." Dean quickly added.

"Thank god." John released a breath he didn't know he was holding. "The things it showed me that it wanted to do to you through Sam. Dean. I know you're strong, but you're still human, I don't know if you would have been able to handle it. Not after…"

John's voice faltered and his head dropped as Dean stepped in front of him.

"He didn't do anything." Dean repeated, giving a glance to Sam then locking eye contact with his dad. "What did you come here to tell me?"

"I need you to know, while that son of a bitch was inside me, he showed me everything he's done to you. I don't exactly know why. I don't know why he showed me what he did or why the hell he's done what he has to you."

"You've already said that." Dean stopped his dad's rambling.

"Dean, son, look, my intentions weren't to come here and beg for forgiveness. If you never forgive me, if you never want to see me again, I understand. But I need you to know how truly sorry I am. I know I didn't have control, but I was awake the entire time. I know what he had me do to you. How badly you were hurt by my hands."

Dean locked onto the sorrow deep in his dad's eyes as he continued to speak. "I know you were looking for answers. I'm sure that's why you approached me in the first place."

John drew in a deep breath to clear his now foggy head. "Honestly, I don't know why the hell you did what you did. I haven't had a chance to talk to you about it. But I need you to know, no matter what you may think, I would have never allowed you to do what you did. I swear to you Dean, I don't want you that way. I don't know what you want, but I know what I want, and it isn't that. The way I reacted, that wasn't me. There's no way in hell I would hurt you that way."

John sighed. "I know things haven't been easy on you lately."

"That's an understatement." Dean mumbled.

"Just hear me out. Please."

Dean nodded once, backing away from his dad until his back rested on the shelf beside Bobby. He kept his arms folded tightly across he chest. His hands trembled.

"That's just it, okay. I know it's an understatement. Trust me I know. The thing is, this demon, he's the one who has been making your life a living hell lately. He showed me how he picked the man who was already killing hunters. He showed me how he made sure you and Sam would pick up the case. He used demons to possess people, to talk about certain things at certain times, to draw you into it. He picked him because he was already a sadistic bastard so I don't have any regrets on killing him."

Sam had made his way to stand on Dean's other side. "Look, the man who held you boys captive, he was possessed. I saw everything he did to you. I saw it in a way that you didn't. I saw it in a way I can't explain. It was like seeing it from the demon's point of view. I could see the strength he gave that man. I could see the impossibly strong powers he held."

Dean glanced at Sam, wishing he didn't have to hear this, but also thankful he was standing so close. John continued. "Dean, you have to know that no matter what you may think, there's no way you would have been able to escape him. There's no way his strength wouldn't have over powered you. He was working with the strength of a demon. They're stronger than any human alive."

Dean puffed his chin out in a half nod, noting that he understood what his dad was saying and wanted him to move on to something else.

John shook his head. "Still can't face it?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes, son, it does. But I didn't come here to argue with you. The last thing I want is to fight with you right now."

Dean stiffened his defensive stance as John continued to speak.

"It's more than just that. He showed me things I didn't know. He showed me things you probably didn't know, or don't remember. You have to understand, I literally saw everything take place in front of my eyes, but I was powerless to stop the past. The thing is, it didn't just end there. Every person who had a hateful look or spewed any type of hateful, angry words, that was all his work. He showed me how there were people you had to face in the hospital he had possessed. Not everyone who was possessed was possessed by him, some were inhabited by the demons who work for him."

Dean glanced at Bobby, making sure the man was taking mental notes of this new knowledge. He was. John continued saying what he had come to say, drawing Dean's attention back to him. "There were people who hurt you, Dean. People in the hospital. There were medications that were given to you that weren't medications."

"What were they?" Sam questioned.

"Different things. Each one was purposefully given to cause him some type of pain."

John moved his attention from Sam back to Dean. He had shifted so his shoulder was now against the wall, giving John a more side profile of him. He hadn't removed his arms from his chest. His knuckles had turned white, leaving puffy angry finger marks on his arms. Dean was obviously bothered by this news. He remained quiet, his lips pulled into a tight line. His jaw locked tight.

John drew in a deep breath and continued to speak. "There were exams that were given by the demons that were meant to cause more pain than they should have. Words, lies, whispered into your ear. Poison that was given in different forms."

Dean closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again. "I get it. Can we move on?"

"Yeah." John's eyes saddened with the hurt he was now causing his son, again. "There's been these demons who have been flying around here." John paused to look around the room. "They haven't been strong ones. That wasn't the purpose of them. They were here to possess us for short moments at a time. They were here long enough to spew hateful words or give a gesture or look that would mess with your mind, then they would leave."

John looked at Bobby, making his voice stern and serious. "Thousands of them. Serving their purpose for a moment then gone."

John looked back at Dean, softening his voice again. "I'm not excusing anyone's actions. I'm not saying that normal frustrations didn't set in. I'm not saying that every single outburst from any one of us was demon possession. I'm just saying they were here for that purpose and that purpose only. And they served their purpose before leaving."

"Noted." Dean's reply was short and to the point.

John nodded at his son's reply before continuing. "When you left, that was all him too. He had drove you to the point of no return with the demons that kept your head so dark, so confused. I… I can't explain it. I wish I could. But I can't. It's like what he did… what he could see the others doing, it was all replayed for my eyes. He controlled your car when you couldn't. He drove you to drink so much. He made sure you were exactly where he wanted you."

John paused for a moment before continuing. "It was like an old cartoon with the devil on your shoulder, whispering words into your head. The thing is, when you went back to Lawrence, the people he chose, they were already scum bags. They already had the sex trafficking set in place. He just found the most evil people and made them worse. Everything they did to you was his works. Okay, maybe not everything, they were already hateful people, but he made sure their worst attention was on you. That's the only thing he cared about."

John sighed as he could see Dean's eyes harden. "Look, Dean, when he showed me the things that happened to you there, he laughed with delight. I don't know any other way of putting it. He was thrilled that the officer had brought you back. He was going to let you die. He admitted that he couldn't imagine a worse death than that."

"And the ancient green goo guy?" Dean knew that was the worst part of the entire ordeal.

John nodded. "He pulled him out of the pits of hell to connect to you while you were there. Once that officer brought you back to life, he allowed the creature to stay attached, to follow you out of there. Nothing changed from before. There were a whole new set of demons who flew around here. All new ones that possessed for short moments. They even worked extra hard at getting your mind as dark as it could be."

"Like when he killed himself." Sam's words were more of a statement than a question.

"Exactly." John replied. "He made damn sure there wasn't any way that light could come through. He made sure you were as miserable as any human could be."

John had an instant regret of being here. He regretted telling Dean this. He started questioning if what he was doing was right. He didn't miss the quick swipe of a tear from Dean's actions.

"Dean." John's voice filled with so much sorrow. "Do you need me to stop?"

Dean shook his head as he stared at the floor under his feet. His words were caught somewhere in the lump in his throat.

John nodded, giving Dean the slightest of grins. It was both to say he was proud of how strong he was and sympathy for everything he had endured.

"Dean, this demon, he tried in every way to break you. He tried in every way to tear you apart, to cause pain and heartache like nothing else could ever cause. But you proved time and time again to be stronger than any of it. You showed him how powerful you really are."

"Except when I killed myself." Dean sighed barely above a whisper.

"Especially when you did." John clarified. "Dean, the things you endured up to that point, I can't say I wouldn't have acted the same way long before you did. Hell, just watching it on replay was enough to mess with my mind. I'll be the first to admit, I didn't completely understand everything you had went through. I didn't even entirely care. I don't know if that was because of the demons or my own selfishness. But now that I've seen it, I don't know how the hell I've managed to have such a strong son."

Dean gave his dad a lopsided grin of thanks.

"Why is it so concentrated on hurting Dean?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know why he wants to hurt him. I don't know why he killed your mom or Jess." John continued to keep his attention on Sam as he spoke. "But, its important that you all three know what the hell this demon is doing."

John moved his gaze from Sam to a shared gaze with Dean and Bobby. When did Dean seem to stand so close to Bobby John wondered. "Look, I don't know if he's done now that he's showed me all of this. I don't know if he wants to keep hurting Dean. I don't know if Sam is going to be his next target. I don't know anything of importance. I know the last thing it let me know was that it was aiming for Sam to be the next one to hurt you."

Dean stepped in front of Bobby, forcing John's gaze on him. "Why?"

"Why what, son?" John was clearly confused by his son's sudden change in attitude.

"Why the hell did he do that?"

"Dean."

"Tell me! Why the hell is he so damn concentrated on me?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me."

"I told you. I don't know."

Dean gave Bobby a sideways glance, one that said not to interrupt unless needed. He stepped forward. He kept a confidence about his appearance. He didn't let anyone see the war that was waging inside. He had to force his legs to move with his mind as he stepped over the lines of the devil trap.

Sam flinched to stop his brother. Bobby shot his arm out, resting it across Sam's chest, stopping him from intervening.

Dean pressed one hand on each arm of the chair. His hands were pressed against his dad's restrained arms. He leaned forward. His nose nearly brushing the tip of his dad's. He tightened his jaw, strengthening his voice.

"Tell. Me. Why." Dean ground out.

"Dean." John's voice was a sigh of sympathy.

"Tell me."

"Because…. He said it was more fun than just burning you on the ceiling."

Dean's eyes flinched.

"He said that Sam would need more of an impact losing you, and… and that… He would enjoy your long-term suffering better than any boring house fire."

Dean pushed back, staring at his dad, neither of them so much as blinking.

John couldn't take his son's eyes any longer. He took his gaze from his son and locked eyes with Bobby. "All I know is that we need to keep them both protected. I don't know what cost that's going to come with. I don't know exactly what that means. But until I can catch this son of a bitch, we need to keep it the hell away from my boys. Even if that means keeping me away from them."

"Dad." Dean didn't want to hear what his dad was saying. He didn't want it to be true.

John gave Dean a look of sympathy and sorrow. "Dean, you're my son. Both of you are. I need to protect you. I've done so much to hurt you lately. I need to make sure this demon doesn't use me against you anymore."

"I need you, Dad." Dean could have kicked himself over how pathetic his voice sounded.

"Dean, you don't need me. You're doing a bang up job keeping yourself strong. You're fighting like no one I've ever known. You got this son. You can do this without me. Hell, truth is, you probably do it better without me."

"Bobby, there has to be a way of keeping demons from getting inside of us." Dean was desperate for answers. He turned from his dad and gave the older man his full attention.

Bobby nodded and stepped away. He returned with a knife, stepping into the trap with Dean and John.

"For your sake, I sure as hell hope you ain't bullshitting this kid." Bobby whispered once he was close enough to John's ear.

He had pressed a hand against the rope that wrapped itself around John's arm. He looked deep into his friend's eyes. Deep. Trying to figure out what was hidden there. Trying to make sure the boys, or maybe just Dean, was okay, safe.

"I don't like this." Bobby grumbled. "Dean. Why don't you step out of the circle?"

Dean moaned a little but did as Bobby suggested.

One arm free. He then worked at the ropes around his legs. He started with the one opposite his free arm. One leg freed. Then the next. Finally, the last arm was clear from the restraints. Bobby never took his eyes from John, he was careful to watch for any sign that said this was a trap. He didn't see any.

"Boys, we need to go to the panic room." Bobby stated without turning from John. "Why don't you go first, we'll meet you there."

"Bobby." Dean tried to object.

"Dean! Do as you're told." John ordered.

"Yes sir."

Dean wrapped his hand around Sam's arm and forced him to walk with him. At first Sam tried to resist, then he felt the tremble in his brother's grip and followed.

"Hey, Dean, you okay?" Sam questioned once they were out of ear shot.

"Just walk Sammy." Dean instructed.

Instead of slowing his pace Sam was sure Dean only walked faster, slowing only once they stepped over the doorway into the panic room. Dean made certain to close the door behind him.

"Dean?" Sam couldn't hold his concern in any longer.

"Sam. Please. Don't."

"Dean, why the hell are we in here?"

Dean was pacing back and forth, concern, panic, fear, uncertainty, driving his anxiety.

"Dean!" Sam raised his stern voice.

"What!"

"What the hell are we doing in here?"

"Didn't you hear Dad? He said there's demons flying around, Sam. Whatever Bobby has to say he can't say in front of them."

"Demons… what?"

"Sam! Do you even listen?"

"Of course, I do. Just because I'm a little confused doesn't mean you have to be so hateful."

"Sam." Dean sighed as his body stilled. "I'm sorry."

"Dean, what the hell is going on with you right now?"

Dean didn't speak. He halfway sat on the desk behind him and looked to the floor.

Sam stepped closer. "Talk to me, man."

"Sam, I… I can't."

"You can't what? Talk to me?"

Dean nodded his head.

"Why?"

"I can't do this." Dean's voice was barely a whisper.

"Yes, you can! Dean, you're the strongest person I know. If anyone can do this, it's you."

Dean looked up at his brother. Before he was able to respond the door opened and John walked through, followed by Bobby. Bobby held three small charms in his hand. He handed one to each of the boys and then handed one to John.

"Keep these on you at all times." Bobby ordered.

"That's it?" Dean was shocked.

"Yeah, that's it."

"And you waited till now to tell us about this?"

"Dean, if the demons know you have these, they will do whatever they can to damage the charms. They aren't a sure win. They are only a form of protection. Don't ever announce you have them and don't ever let anyone know exactly where you keep it. Just keep it somewhere on your body at all times."

Dean looked at Sam, his dad, then back at Bobby. "So, we're good now? we don't have to worry about any demons getting inside us as long as we have these?"

"That's the idea." Bobby answered.

"You one hundred percent sure he ain't possessed?" Sam questioned, pointing at their dad.

Dean shrugged. "If he is, Bobby just gave a demon and anti-possession charm."

"Damn smartass." Bobby huffed, receiving a slight grin from Dean. "There ain't a damn demon dead or alive that could cross that threshold."

Dean rubbed a tired hand down his face, whipping away months of exhaustion.

"Son?" John's voice held sincere concern.

Dean lifted his eyes, followed by his head, looking at his dad. "I'm okay."

"You sure?"

Dean shrugged. "Just tired."

"Dean." John stepped close. "I can only imagine how exhausting all of this has been for you."

"Thought you knew everything?"

John shook his head. "Only what the demon was able to see. He couldn't see inside of you. He didn't know what you were actually feeling, only what he hoped you'd feel."

"What he hoped, was probably right."

"I don't know about that, Dean. I'm sure you're a hell of a lot stronger in there than he expected."

Dean shrugged. He moved a couple feet, sitting on the nearby bed, as exhaustion set deep into his bones. He took a moment to stare at the floor.

John knelt in front of his oldest son. He placed his hand on his knee. He almost removed his hand when his touch caused Dean's leg to jump, but Dean instantly seemed to calm his actions.

"Bobby?" Dean's voice was full of the exhaustion he was suddenly feeling. He lifted tired eyes to the older man.

"Yeah?"

"Can I…" He paused, looked at his dad, then back at Bobby. "Can I stay in here for a while?"

"Yeah, sure."

Dean nodded. He ran his hand down his face then dropped it on top his dad's hand that sat on his leg.

"Come on, Sam." Bobby gestured his head toward the door. "Need your help straightening things back up."

Sam looked at his brother and dad, then back at Bobby. "Yes sir." Sam sighed but did as Bobby wanted.

"You need anything I'll be right upstairs." Bobby stated before walking out of the room.

Dean sat, staring into his dad's eyes. He didn't move his hand from his dad's. He nodded at Bobby, the slightest of movement.

Bobby placed a tough hand on John's shoulder. "Don't bullshit him." It was a simple statement that John heard loud and clear.

Bobby and Sam walked out, the heavy metal door closed behind them. Dean didn't move. He wasn't sure what he wanted, but he knew he didn't want anything to change too quickly. He needed his world to be still. He needed his dad. He needed sleep, real sleep, restful sleep. He needed to feel safe. He needed to not have demons flying around him. He needed this. This. Right here. He needed this to stay exactly the way it was until he was ready for it to change. He needed everything to be okay.


	87. Chapter 87

**CHAPTER 87**

John sat exactly where he was. He allowed Dean the time he needed. He allowed Dean to have control over this situation. He knew how badly his oldest son needed control over anything right now.

"Dean, you okay?" John waited until he saw him blink before speaking.

"Dad."

John flinched at the sound of his son's voice. He sounded so far away. So young. So lost. So zoned out.

"I'm here, Dean." John noticed his son's eyes hadn't moved from their lost focus.

"Dad. I…" Dean's voice faded before gaining strength again. "I don't know how much longer…" Dean paused before continuing. "I can do this." He lifted his eyes to meet his dad's.

John stood and sat on the bed beside his son. He rested a hand on Dean's thigh. He wasn't sure why, but he felt the need to continue the physical contact.

"Do you remember when you and Sam were taken? After we found you and took you to the hospital?" John kept his voice low and filled with emotions.

Dean nodded his head. He hadn't followed his dad's motions, instead he kept his gaze in his own lap.

"What do you remember most about being in the hospital?"

Dean looked up at his dad. His eyes were glossy with unshed tears. "You were a dad." Dean's voice was barely a whisper.

John gave a shaky smile. "Yeah. That's what I remember most too. But you know what?"

Dean didn't reply, he just kept his gaze on his dad, waiting for him to continue what he was saying.

"The demon." John continued. "He didn't show me any of that. He didn't show me how much you cared about your brother, how you took care of him. He didn't show me how much you needed me. How much I needed you. How much you needed a dad as much as I needed to be a dad."

Dean's face softened as John spoke, releasing a single tear.

"Dean, the demon only showed me what it wanted. It only showed me the things that would tear me down, the things that tore you down. Dean, son, you're so much more than that. The things that happened, it was so much more than that."

John lifted Dean's face to be able to look in his eyes. "Our experiences aren't only based on the bad. There's always the good too. I need you to remember that. Son. I know what I did to you. I know you probably think its your fault. I'm not exactly sure what you were thinking, what you were trying to do. But I do know that we can always turn something good out of the bad. It's the way we've managed to survive. Right?"

"Yes sir."

"You going to be okay?"

"Honest?"

"Yeah, Dean, honest."

Dean shrugged. "I… I don't know."

John nodded, even though Dean wasn't looking at him any longer. "Wanna talk about it?"

Dean didn't answer. He didn't move his head in a reply. He just sat, staring at the emptiness in front of him. After a long pause of stillness and quiet he looked at his dad. "I don't know."

John nodded again. "That last day I saw you." John paused to be sure Dean was still paying attention. He was. "I'm not going to pretend anyone's heads were in the right place. And after what I saw, I'm not even going to pretend there couldn't have been some damn demon driving your thoughts. But I have to ask. I need to know."

"I don't know what I was thinking." Dean interrupted. A shadow of embarrassment flushed his cheeks.

"Is that what you wanted?"

"What! No!" Dean calmed himself from the sudden shock before he continued. "I… I thought it was what you wanted."

"Me? Dean, why would you think that?"

Dean shrugged.

"And why the hell would that even matter?"

Dean shrugged again.

"Are you that damn set of pleasing me that you'd allow me to take advantage of you like that?"

Dean's head shot up with a look of hurt but only shrugged his shoulders again.

"Dean, son, I need you to talk to me right now."

Frustrated anger filled the veins that ran through Dean's body. He quickly stood and started pacing the small room. He suddenly felt like a rubber band that was pulled too tight. One that didn't even need movement to snap. One who's fibers were stretched and tearing on their own. His breathing increased as he paced back and forth. Turning, he ran both hands through his hair, knotting his fingers around the strands as desperation held its place in his expression.

His green eyes glistened with unshed tears. His brows creased above his nose. His respirations coming too fast, too shallow. His heart racing for its own place in Dean's chest.

John slowly stood and made his way beside his son. His son was no longer a boy. He was a grown man. But at that moment he looked so young, so small, so lost. John wrapped his arms around his oldest son, pulling him tightly against his chest.

Dean's legs buckled under him as he wrapped his dad in an embrace. John helped lower Dean to the ground to prevent either of them from falling. There they sat. John wasn't sure how long they sat there. Dean was too lost to care. They sat in an entwined pile on the floor. Both men holding onto the other while their tears fell.

Dean's tears came hard, more like sobs. He could no longer hold in the emotions he held onto so tightly. He could no longer be the picture of strength he had been portraying. John's tears fell silently. He ached for his son. He ached for the innocence he had lost so many years ago. He ached for the life he had forced his boys to endure.

Neither wanted to release the other. They both needed the connection they had found. It was more than a father son connection. It was something real. It was something that kept them both grounded. It was something they had spent so many years without.

For Dean this was a chance to be safe. This was a chance to be weak without judgement. This was a chance to let his dad be a dad. This was a chance for someone to understand, truly understand, what he had been through, what he felt.

Sure, he knew his dad didn't fully understand what he felt. How could he. No one could completely understand the war in his head. But John had said he saw everything, he felt everything. He was the only person who had witnessed it all, who could even begin to understand. And Dean would take what he could get. Dean would take the partial understanding. After all, he didn't really want his dad, or anyone else, to fully understand any of it. That would mean they would have to experience it first hand, the way he did. And he would go through it all again to prevent that from ever happening.

He didn't want anyone to feel everything he felt. He didn't want anyone to even see what his dad had seen. He didn't want anyone to know how badly he had been hurt. How messed up he really was. And, to think he had even went as far as to seduce his own dad. That only proved how messed up he was.

John had asked him why. He had wanted to know what thoughts led Dean to go into his room that night. He didn't answer him. Not really. Truth was, he didn't know the answer. He wasn't sure what thoughts he had that night. He didn't know why he would put himself in that situation.

He hated it. He really did. He hated it every time anything happened. It had stopped hurting. It had stopped being so physically breaking. But mentally. Mentally he couldn't handle it. Each time it tore away at him. Each time took a piece of his heart, a piece of his soul. Each time broke him further into a spiral he was sure he'd never come back from.

So, why did he visit his dad that night? Was he really that desperate to please him? Was he that desperate to follow orders? Even if the orders would tear him apart? Maybe his dad was right. Maybe he was a pathetic piece of crap. Maybe everyone's question, the same question he was asked over and over, held some truth. Maybe he did like it?

He never thought he did. He would never imagine wanting to be with another guy, not willingly, not unless it was for money. Even that he had no desire to do anymore, not since he was old enough to enter a bar and shoot some pool. He never thought about it again. He enjoyed his women. So why then? Why would he do what he did?

"I don't know." Dean whispered almost too silent for John to hear. It was a thought inside his head that had been mistakenly released into the air. One that he couldn't take back now that it was out.

Their tears had long since dried. John relaxed against the wall. Dean's body had mostly stopped its shaking. The room fell silent. Neither of them had any desire to move. Dean clung to his dad's shirt. His head rested against his chest. John's arms wrapped him in safety and love. Dean's mind shifted a thousand miles away.

When he spoke it broke the overly long silence. John's eyes had started drifting closed in the peacefulness that calmed the room. He was certain Dean was getting some much needed calmness as well. That was until the kid spoke, waking John from the calmness he had found.

"What?" John questioned in surprise.

"I don't know why I went into your room."

John gave Dean a tightened squeeze. "Its okay. You don't need to know why."

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Why?"

"Because, I don't want to be a freak."

Dean hadn't moved. He never raised his head from his dad's chest. He never tried to move out of his embrace. He needed this. He needed this safety his dad brought.

"Dean, son, you're not a freak."

"How can you say that?" Dean shifted under the sudden weight in his chest.

"Because its true."

"Then you tell me, why the hell did I do what I did?"

"Because your head hasn't been exactly clear. You've been put through a lot. And, you're right, I'm sure I gave a lot of reasons for you to think I wanted it. And, its not like I've ever given you a chance to do anything except obey my every order. It never mattered if it made sense or not. You were never allowed to question me. Why the hell would this be any different?"

Dean sat up so he could look at his dad. "Do you really believe that?"

"Yeah. I do."

Dean nodded as he moved his eyes to the floor. "I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

"I've been a disappointment."

"Who said that?"

"You."

"Well, I lied."

"No. No you didn't."

"No? And why not?"

"Because, I have been. I've done nothing but screw things up. I keep making everything worse. I don't know. Dad. I have all these emotions and I don't know what the hell to do with them. I don't know where they're coming from or why. Its like. Its like I'm filled with so much anger. And… and just frustrated!"

"At what?"

"I… I don't know. At my self. At life. At the damn demon!"

John nodded.

"I don't know how to stop it!" Dean pushed himself off the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He dropped his head into his hands. Exhaustion overflowed through his body as his head swam.

"Well." John stood and made his way beside Dean. "For starters, you lay down." He reached with both hands, grabbing his son's legs and rotating them onto the bed. "And you sleep where you know you'll be safe."

John sat beside Dean's legs after watching him for a minute, being sure he wouldn't startle him by sitting beside him, especially after he just laid him on a bed. "And, you get rid of the exhaustion you've been feeling." He placed a gentle hand on Dean's chest and another under his head as he pushed his body into a laying position, gently guiding his head to the pillow. "Then, when you wake you'll feel better. Trust me."

"I don't want to sleep."

"Why? Nightmares?"

Dean nodded.

"Dean, nothing can get you in here. I'll stay if you want me to, but I think you might sleep better if I'm not around."

Dean couldn't get his head to stop swimming long enough to make any conscious thought about what his dad had just said.

"Close your eyes." John kept his voice calm. He made sure his words were more of suggestions than orders. Dean obeyed. "Sleep."

"Dad."

"Yeah?"

"What if the nightmares come?"

"Then you let them. You remember where you're at. You remember nothing can get you in here. You remember you're safe and that's all they are, just nightmares."

"How?"

"Want me to have Bobby come sit with you?"

Dean shook his head.

"Sam?"

Dean shook his head.

"Want me to stay?"

Dean shrugged his shoulders. His eyes too heavy and tired to open. His mind too exhausted to think.

"Okay. I'll tell you what. I'm going to go talk with Bobby and Sam. Make sure they don't need any help with anything. Make sure they know we are both okay. You go to sleep. When I'm done, I'll come back. I'll wake you, help you through, if you have any nightmares."

"I will."

"Have nightmares?"

"Yeah."

John nodded. "I'll be here."

"Thanks."

"Go to sleep. I'll be back soon."

Dean didn't disobey as he allowed his mind to slip away into the exhausted darkness.

John stepped out of the room, gently closing the heavy metal door behind him. The last thing he wanted to do was startle his son. He had been through so much already. He had already done enough damage to him.

John slid his back down the nearby wall. He curled his knees to his chest and buried his face in his hands. He cried. He had openly cried with Dean. He had released so many emotions. But this was different. This was tears he had been holding onto. This was emotions he couldn't let Dean see.

He cried out loud, knowing for the moment he was alone. He allowed his voice life with the sobs. He allowed his pain to fill the room and the emptiness to fill his chest. He soaked his face with the pain that dripped from his eyes. He wasn't sure how, but he knew he needed to make this right. He needed to make this right for both of his boys. He just wished he knew exactly what it was that needed fixed. He wished he knew how to make it all okay.


	88. Chapter 88

CHAPTER 88

"Hey, Dad."

Sam greeted his dad as he entered the room where they sat. He was feeling much better about their dad being there since he and Bobby had a chance to talk in private. He was still going to be overly protective of his brother, that was to be expected, but he did feel calmer about the entire ordeal.

"Hey." John's voice sounded exhausted as he sat in the chair near his youngest son.

"How's Dean doing?"

"He's getting some much needed rest."

Sam nodded. "He okay?"

"Yeah. I told him I would come back to make sure he doesn't have nightmares. I just needed to make sure you two didn't need any help with anything first."

"We're good." Bobby replied.

John nodded.

"You look tired." Sam noted.

"Yeah." John wiped a hand down his face. "But, Dean didn't want to be alone and asked me to stay with him."

"Then why are you up here?"

"I needed a break. Had to clear my head."

Sam nodded in response. He understood the events that had taken place better. But he still didn't have many words to say to his dad. He wasn't as quick to forgive his actions as Dean had been.

"Want me to go sit with him?" Sam questioned.

John shook his head with a deep breath. "I asked him already. He said he didn't want you to sit with him, Bobby either. I figured he would be more comfortable with one of you two instead of me. Obviously he doesn't feel the same way."

"Yeah." Sam couldn't seem to come up with the words he wanted to say. He was only able to give short, one word responses.

"I don't think it's anything personal, son." John quickly added. "Perhaps he doesn't want to feel like he's putting you in a spot you wouldn't want to be in. I know he already feels responsible for taking you down this messed up journey with him. If I know Dean well enough, which I'm sure I do, he's probably beating himself up, feeling like he's the one causing you whatever emotional pain you've been feeling."

"It's not his fault." Sam's words were barely a whisper.

"I know son. I know."

They sat in silence. All three men lost in their own heads.

"I wanted to make sure you guys knew we were okay." John filled the silence with his own words. "Guess I'm gonna go back down there, make sure he's okay. Don't wanna leave him too long. He's scared of the nightmares."

"If you need anything you'll let us know?"

"Yeah, son, I will." John stood, giving his youngest son's shoulder a pat as he walked by and headed back toward the stairs.

He drew in a deep breath once he was alone again. That was better than he expected but still didn't go as he had planned. None of this had. Not that he was complaining. Truth is, he didn't plan too much. He knew the way this family worked. He knew nothing ever went as planned.

He drew in another deep breath before opening the door and stepping back into the room where his son was sleeping. He sat in the chair that was positioned in the corner. As he watched his son sleep his mind drifted back to a time that wasn't long ago. It wasn't long ago but felt like a lifetime.

He remembered watching his son sleep as he fought off the ancient monster that possessed his body. He remembered the worry and concern that laced through him. The uncertainty of what the future held for him. It seemed like a much more peaceful time before he knew what he was facing.

He wasn't sure how Dean would turn out after this. The kid had always been strong. He had always been able to face everything life threw at him. But how much was too much? When would he not be able to handle life anymore? Would anyone even know if Dean faced that time? He would try to face it alone, that John was sure of.

He watched as Dean's sleep became restless. His face tightened then released. His fists balled, grasping the sheets beneath him, then released. His breath sped. John was certain his heart had sped too. Then his breathing calmed again. He went through the motions, reacting to what was in his head.

The room remained silent except for the moments of Dean's breaths pushing hard past his lips. His head was moving back and forth. John remembered the beginning of this adventure. That's really what it is, an adventure. Not the type any of them were enjoying, but an adventure none the less.

He remembered when they brought Dean home from the hospital after being held captive. He remembered the balancing act they had keeping Dean's nightmares under control. He remembered the doctor telling him how to let his mind sort itself out through his dreams and how to keep them from becoming too much. He watched as Dean's dreams were obvious nightmares. But he didn't seam to be in distress, not yet.

"Hey, Dean, buddy, time to wake up." John gently tapped his son's cheek. "Come on, son, I'm gonna need you to wake up."

Dean's head had started thrashing back and forth. His breathing desperate and uneven. His heartrate picking up in speed. Mumbled noises of distress escaped from his lips. His fists were turning white from the strong grasp he had against the bedding beneath him.

"Hey there buddy, I need you to wake up, okay?" John caressed the side of his face.

Dean's eyes fluttered under the lids.

"Hey, Dean, come on. You need to wake up."

Dean's eyes rapidly blinked open. Sweat beads forming on his forehead.

John wiped the sweat from his son. "Hey, good to see you awake." He smiled.

Dean groaned and pushed himself to a seated position. His hands still shaking as they wiped down his face.

"Sorry, buddy." John apologized. "Your nightmares started getting bad."

Dean nodded, still not saying a word.

"You okay?" John rested beside his son.

"How do we kill it?" Dean's words came out as a near whisper.

"Thought you'd never ask." John grinned.

Dean sighed. "I want the damn thing dead!"

"Me too, son. Me too." He rubbed his hand down Dean's back, working the remaining of the nightmare from his body.

Dean wasn't sure how, but they had managed to make their way upstairs. He felt like he had closed his eyes, for only a second. He was going to allow the fuzziness to take over his mind. He was going to allow his body to relax with his mind. Only for a moment.

He didn't feel his body move into action. He didn't feel his dad's hand guide him as he walked upstairs. He didn't know he had sat on another surface. He didn't hear his brother's words as he saw them walk into the room. He didn't feel Bobby's concerned eyes on him. He didn't see anything but the darkness he was going to allow to take over for a moment.

He was sure he had only blinked. He opened his eyes and confusion settled in. He was no longer in the panic room. He was no longer sitting on the edge of the bed. His dad. Dean looked beside him. His dad was no longer beside him.

He had pulled himself into awareness. He was sitting on the couch in Bobby's living room. Sam was sitting beside him. His dad and Bobby sat in chairs on either side of them. Both with their eyes locked onto him, concern living deep inside.

Dean blinked again. He blinked with a fear. He blinked unsure if he would open his eyes and find himself somewhere else.

"You okay?" Sam's voice was heavy with concern.

"Yeah." When did Dean's voice start sounding like weakened gravel?

"You back in the land of the living?" John questioned.

"Yeah." Dean repeated. He wasn't sure what had just happened, but he was sure he was aware of the present. At least for now. "How… When…" Dean struggled to force out the broken thoughts.

"You said you wanted to kill him." John started to explain. "Then you stood up and walked out of the panic room. I could tell you appeared to be in some type of a trance, but nothing I did would stop you from wondering around downstairs."

Dean wiped his face and looked up at his dad as he spoke.

"Then you started making your way upstairs. After walking through several rooms, and ignoring anything anyone said to you, you finally settled on sitting on the couch."

Dean sighed.

"Been sitting there, out of it, for about an hour now." John added.

Dean's eyebrows raised. "I… I don't remember."

"Yeah, I gathered." John nodded.

Dean's eyes shifted around the room, trying to remember anything his dad had just said. "Too bad I didn't kill the son of a bitch while I was out of it."

"Yeah, that'd be a neat trick." John chuckled.

Dean nodded. "So, how the hell do we find the son of a bitch and ice it?"

"Well, I've been tracking it. I've been able to follow omens. There's a disturbance in the world where ever he's at. Here. I can show you."

John pulled out some papers and his journal. He started showing the boys and Bobby the signs he'd been following over the years. He explained to them how he had found the signs to follow, and what signs they were.

"When you left, upset at me, that's what I needed to check out." John started explaining to Dean. "I needed to check on the signs that I'd been following before things got sidetracked with you boys."

Dean lowered his head ashamed, guilty. "He used us as a distraction, to keep you from following him." He stated, his voice full of conviction.

He never should have allowed that. He knew his dad was busy hunting. He knew what his dad done was important. He should have allowed him to do his job. Taking care of him wasn't his job, not anymore, not ever.

"I'm sorry." Dean added as his thoughts flooded his head.

"Dean, son, its not your fault."

"I shouldn't have stopped you. I'm sorry."

"Do you hear me? Dean? Its not your fault."

"I'm sorry."

"Dean! Son!" The last thing John wanted to do was raise his voice at either of his boys, but that's exactly what he had just done. Dean didn't seem to hear him. He needed to get his attention some how.

Dean raised his head to look at his dad. Suddenly his neck felt too weak, his head too heavy.

"Dean, son, its not your fault!"

Dean blinked rapidly.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. What did I just say?"

"Its not your fault."

"And, who was I talking to?"

Dean shrugged.

"Damn it, Dean. I thought you wanted to know how to kill this thing? Are you even paying attention?" John's exhaustion from the day had started taking over his ability to show compassion.

Dean stared.

"Dad." Sam's voice held warning. Warning to not push his brother. Warning that said Dean had been through a lot. John had put Dean through a lot. A warning that said he needed to back off. He needed to give Dean space. Space to process the day's events. A warning that said he would have Sam to deal with if he didn't comply.

"I think we're all pretty damn exhausted." Bobby broke through the heaviness in the air. "How about we call it a night, pick this back up in the morning?"

"Sounds good to me." Sam sighed. "Where's everyone sleeping?"

"Uh, Sam, we all have our own rooms. We've always had our own rooms." Bobby was truly confused by the kid's question.

"You expect Dean to sleep with our dad in the next room?"

"Dean's right here." Dean interrupted Sam's attempt at an argument.

"And, where exactly do you expect Dean to sleep then?" Bobby questioned.

"Again, Dean's right here." Dean repeated.

"I don't know, maybe its Dad who should sleep somewhere else." Sam replied.

"GUYS!" Dean yelled out. "I'm right here, damn it! Don't I get a say so in all of this?"

"No!" Sam yelled back.

"Dude!" Dean pulled his body back, away from the attack he was feeling.

"Sorry." Sam quickly apologized.

"Dude, leave it." Dean sighed. "Everything's okay. Leave things alone."

"And, what if something happens?" Sam stood with his hands on his hips in front of Dean.

"Like what? Huh? Like what, Sam!" Dean pushed back in defense.

"Oh, I don't know. Like maybe rape you!"

"God, Sam." Dean sighed. "I'm a big boy, you know. I can handle myself."

"Yeah, cause you've done a bang up job at that, haven't you?"

Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Sam." His voice was suddenly a sound of pure defeat.

"Sam, leave your brother alone." John attempted to stop the one sided argument.

"Back off!" Sam yelled at his dad.

"Sam!" Dean stood and placed his body between his dad and brother. "Look, I don't know what the hell has gotten into you but you need to chill the hell out! Leave Dad alone, shut your mouth and go upstairs, we'll discuss this in private!"

"Is that what the hell you did that night? Tell Dad you needed to discuss things in private?" Sam used air quotes around the word "private" as he spoke.

"God, Sam." Dean sighed. "I've had it!" His voice raised. "I'm done with this! I can't do it anymore! Don't you think, for once, I need something in my life to go right? Don't you think I just need shit to go back to normal?"

Dean's voice softened as he continued to speak. "Sam, please, just stop, okay? Please. I need things to just be normal right now, even if just for this moment. Please, Sam. Please."

"Yeah. Okay." Sam's voice calmed with Dean's.

"Okay, we are all going to head upstairs, each of us to our own rooms, and no one." Bobby stopped the argument going on in front of him. Damn Winchesters, they always seemed to end things in an argument. He looked back and forth between the men in front of him. "NO ONE is to leave their rooms until morning. Got it?"

"Yes." They all three replied, deflating their anger instantly.

All four men made their ways upstairs.

"Dean, can I see you in my room for a minute, before you head to bed?" Bobby questioned calmly.

Dean dropped his head and glanced his eyes toward his brother. He had the demeanor of someone who had just been called to the principle's office as he slowly made his way toward Bobby's room.

"Be straight with me. Are you okay?" Bobby questioned once the door was securely closed behind them.

Dean shrugged. His head still hung low. His eyes locked on the floor under his feet. His feet shuffled back and forth but his body remained in place.

"Dean." Bobby was beyond concerned. "Do you want to stay in here tonight?"

Dean didn't reply.

"If you do, I'll tell Sam I'm making you stay with me tonight, to make sure you're safe."

"I can take care of myself." Dean mumbled.

"I know. I know you can. I never said you couldn't."

Dean nodded. He wasn't sure what he was nodding at, but he had an overwhelming need to nod.

"Dean, look at me."

Dean obeyed but his eyes seemed to look through him instead of at him.

"Dean, I need to know you're okay."

"I'll be fine."

Dean's voice was forced. His tone was a mixture of frustration and unawareness. He turned quickly and headed out of the room. He needed to get away. He needed space. He needed to escape before he crumbled and broke. He needed to be strong. He needed to kill the damn demon who had broken his family.

John and Sam had both disappeared into their rooms. Dean slipped through the door and instantly buried himself under his covers.

"Dean?" Sam's voice filled the darkness.

No reply.

"Dean."

"Go to sleep, Sammy." Dean mumbled through the pillow that his face was buried in.

"Dean, are you okay?"

"I swear to god, if one more person asks me that! I'm fine. Of course I'm okay. Now, go to sleep!"

"You know I'm not buying that, right?"

"Sam, I don't give a damn if you believe me or not. I just need you to shut up. I need everyone to shut up. I need you to either start acting normal or leave me the hell alone!"

"You're moody tonight."

"Really, Sam?" Dean quickly pushed the covers from him and shot into a seated position. "Dude, I am so sick and tired of everyone trying to mother me. I am sick and tired of being treated like I'm broken! Just stop, please. I'm not some freak like everyone thinks I am. Yes, okay, a lot of shit has happened lately. But, I'm still me, damn it. I'm still me. I'm still Dean fucking Winchester. I'm still me."

"I know you are."

"I'm still me and everything will be okay. It will all be okay. Somehow, eventually, it will all be okay."


	89. Chapter 89

CHAPTER 89

I'm alone! The yellow eyed demon has taken everyone! How did this happen? How could I let this happen?

Dean woke in a panic; Sam's bed was empty. The house was silent. The only thing running through his thoughts was the nightmares from the night he had just woken from.

"Sam!" Dean yelled. Actually, it was more of a cry than a yell. "Sammy!"

He jumped from his bed. He didn't pause to change, noticing he was still fully dressed from the day before. He quickly slung open the bedroom door. His heart racing, his breathes coming in a panicked rhythm. He stopped as his feet crossed the threshold. He heard voices from before. Saw the lights from downstairs.

He tried to calm himself. He tried to push everything he was feeling away as he descended the stairs.

"Morning, sleepy head." Bobby greeted him.

Dean nodded with a groan. Good. He had thought to himself. They didn't hear me cry out. "Morn'n." Dean mumbled.

The three men were seated at the table filling their stomachs with breakfast that was freshly cooked. Dean joined them in his empty chair. He wasn't hungry, not really, but he wasn't sure what else to do.

"So, I figured we could talk more about the signs I've been following to get that son of a bitch, after breakfast, if you want." John spoke through the food in his mouth.

"Sure." Dean forced a smile with his simple answer. "Sounds good." He added, only because he knew one worded answers was a sure way to have everyone concerned about his mental wellbeing.

Dean sat, mostly pushing the food around his plate. Conversation went on around him, but he didn't partake in it. He wasn't even sure what they were talking about. He knew his loss of concentration wasn't the way a hunter should be, but he was in a safe place, around family, so if he was going to have some crazy mental breakdown this was the place to do it.

John placed his heavy hand on Dean's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, followed by a friendly pat. Dean startled, his body giving a jump before his mind followed him to the present. He raised his eyes to look at his dad. Once eye contact was made, John removed his hand and walked away.

Nothing needed to be said, they both knew it. John needed to pull Dean back to the present, obviously noticing the signs that his mind had drifted away. Dean was thankful for his father's silent help. As much as he wanted everything to be back to normal, he knew it couldn't be. But subtleness was probably as close to normal as he would get right now.

"You okay?" Sam kept his voice low, remaining seated beside his brother.

Dean cleared his throat. "Yeah, why?"

"Dude, I heard you call for me. I don't think Bobby or Dad heard you so I didn't say anything. I didn't want to draw attention to anything. But you had some pretty awful nightmares last night."

Dean took the moment to close his eyes and chew on the edges of his lips. "Yeah. Sorry."

"Man, I wasn't looking for an apology, I was just making sure you were okay."

"Yeah, Sammy. I'm fine." Dean stood. "Sorry if I woke you up." He walked away.

He couldn't do this. He didn't want to do this. He was so tired of going through this. When was enough enough? When was too much too much? When was he going to get a damn break?

"So, how do we find this son of a bitch and how do we kill it?" Dean walked to where his dad and Bobby had moved. He was motivated, he needed something to take his mind off himself. He needed a hunt. He needed to kill the demon. He needed this.

"The colt you and your brother got." John replied.

"Yeah, I mean, I know that. But, its not like the damn thing is going to just come up to us and let us shoot it." Dean couldn't help but bring his sarcasm into the conversation.

John just shook his head. Sam had joined the conversation and the men listened as John explained what he knew and how they could track it. They followed the signs to a town call Salvation. Dean couldn't help but shake his head at the pun of it all.

Before they knew it, the day had run thin. They plotted and planned through lunch time and had fast approached supper. But they had a plan. Mostly anyhow.

"How about we let our brains rest and get something to eat?" Bobby suggested as he stretched his tired body and rubbed at sore shoulders.

Everyone agreed. They were all exhausted from the day's events. It had been a long time since any of them had been on a hunt. A long time since they had researched and planned to kill a supernatural being. They all felt the need to see this through. The need to kill again. But they knew they needed to be prepared and part of being prepared was taking care of their needs as well.

"Hello. Yeah, this is John."

Then men had just sat at the table to eat the food Bobby prepared when John's phone rang. He paused after answering it. It was more than just a pause to listen to the person on the other end of the line. The expression on his face told the others it was not a conversation he was willing to have in front of them. The fact he stood and walked away from them was proof of that.

Dean's attention instantly snapped to his dad. His head followed John's movements as he stood and walked out of the room. He glanced to Bobby, looking for answers.

"Eat your food." Bobby instructed, seeing the questions in Dean's eyes.

"Yes sir." Dean mumbled as he filled his mouth with food he no longer wanted.

"Who was that?" Dean's eyes glanced up as he watched his dad take his seat.

John drew in a deep breath. "Sam's girlfriend."

Sam's head shot up in confusion. His brows creased in the center of his forehead.

"Who?" Dean questioned. "Meg?" He added after a pause.

"Yeah." John agreed, filling his mouth full to avoid his sons' eyes.

"What? What the hell is Meg calling you for?" Sam asked, shocked.

"What'd she want?" Dean interrupted, giving his brother time to think before he started babbling.

"She wants me to meet her."

"How'd she get your number?" Sam questioned.

"Really, Sammy?" Dean responded full of sarcasm. "How'd she get your number? How'd she get your number? A demon calls our dad and all you can ask is how she got his number?"

"Well, it's a valid question." Sam shot back.

"Yeah. Because that's what's important! Finding out how she got Dad's number."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I mean, why the hell do demons even have a need to use a phone? Can't they just zap over here or something?"

"I don't know, Sammy! How about we go find your girlfriend and ask her!"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

"Boys!" John shouted above their arguing. "Knock it off. Now!"

Sam and Dean both paused, giving their attention to their dad.

"Yes sir." Dean responded as he sat back in his chair.

"Sure. Obey blindly, like you always do." Sam crossed his arms over his chest as he pushed back in his chair.

"Just shut up, would you?" Dean spit the words between gritted teeth.

"Boys!" John yelled out again, causing both boys to pause again.

"Eat your food." Bobby chimed in, moving his eyes between all three men. "You damn Winchesters are just a bunch of idgits!" He mumbled.

"So." Dean added after a moment of silence. "You gonna tell us what she wanted?"

"She wants me to meet her."

"Why?"

"Said she wants me to bring the colt with me."

"Dad." Dean's voice was filled with shock. "I thought our plan was to kill that son of a bitch. That's the only thing that'll kill it."

"It is."

"Then what are you going to do?" Sam questioned.

"I don't know, Sam!" John's voice was sharper and louder than he expected. "It's not exactly like I've had time to think about it before you started asking questions!"

Unexpected, Dean jumped as his dad's voice startled him. The action wasn't missed by his dad.

"You okay, son?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean mumbled around the food he had purposely shoved in his mouth.

"Yeah. Okay. Like I was saying, it's not exactly like I've had time to think about this." John drew his attention back toward Sam, lowing his voice and quickly adjusting the tone. "But we'll come up with a plan. We always do."

"Yeah, okay." Sam decided to drop the conversation. He suddenly felt sympathetic for the quick exchange of actions around him. Dean seemed too unsettled, too anxious sitting where he was at.

"You sure you're okay?" Sam questioned his brother.

"I'm fine, Sammy!" Dean snapped as he pushed himself away from the table.

"Dean. Sit down." John ordered.

Dean paused momentarily but continued to move, refusing to obey his dad's orders.

"Dean!" John shouted.

Dean's body flinched but he continued to make his way toward the stairs.

John stood quickly and rushed to follow his oldest son up the stairs.

"Dean?" Sam stood from his chair and called to his brother who suddenly seemed unable to hear anyone.

"I just need a minute, Sammy." Dean grumbled without turning around.

"Dean! Stop!" John grabbed his son's shoulder as they reached the top of the stairs.

Bobby quickly grabbed Sam's shoulders as he reached the halfway mark on the stairs. He placed his other hand against Sam's chest, holding him in place.

"Dean." John continued. "Talk to me, son."

Dean turned to face his dad. He leaned his back against the nearest wall, allowing gravity to push him to the floor. The only thing he wanted was for this to be over. That's the only thing he's been wanting since it all started. He needed normalcy again. He needed his family back, back the way it used to be.

John sat on the floor beside Dean. His back pressed against the wall, the same as Dean's. "Talk to me." He requested in a calm voice.

Dean looked up at his dad. "I…" Dean lowered his head, staring at the floor. "I can't do this. Dad. I can't lose you again." A single tear dripped down his cheek. "Please, Dad. I don't want another demon getting a hold of you."

"Is that what you're afraid of? If I go to meet her, I'll get possessed again?"

Dean nodded his head.

"You afraid I'll hurt you again?"

Dean nodded.

"Dean, look at me."

Dean raised his head to look at his dad again.

"I can't say I'll never hurt you again. I wish I could, but I can't. If I get possessed again, I won't have any control over my body. You know that as well as I do."

"I know." Dean whispered out.

"But I will tell you if there's any ounce of myself left in me, I'll fight my hardest to keep from you ever having to experience pain from my hands again. You got that?"

"Yes sir."

John nodded. "Good." He looked over to the stairs where Sam and Bobby still stood. "The only thing I can think of." He spoke to all three of the men. "Is we make a replica of the colt." Sam and Bobby moved closer. "I'll take it to meet Meg and you boys carry out your mission in Salvation."

"Dad." Sam couldn't seem to get his voice above a whisper. "What… what if they get a hold of you? That can't work forever. They'll find out. What if they kill you?"

John looked up at Sam. "Lets just hope you two are able to kill it before that happens."

"And, if we're not?" Dean questioned through the lump in his throat.

"Then we do what we've always done. We take it a moment at a time. A day at a time. And, we work through the effects of our actions. Whatever they might be." John finished with a gentle pat to Dean's knee.

"I don't like it." Sam spoke up.

"You got a better idea?" John asked.

"No sir." Sam replied with a drop of his head.

"I've gotta meet her at midnight tomorrow." John continued. "I say we all try to get some shut eye. Tomorrow's gonna be a busy day and you boys will need to head out to Salvation as early as possible."

"Yes sir." Sam replied.

Dean remained quiet. He couldn't reply. He didn't like the plan, but he knew it was the best they had. He knew his dream for normalcy was just that, a dream. He knew this demon would do everything in its power to take away the security any of them had. He knew it would destroy the family any way it could.

He stood and followed his brother to their room. He didn't give anyone as much as a glance. He didn't speak, didn't make a sound as he retreated to the darkness surrounded by the covers on his bed.

"Dean? You okay, man?"

"Go to sleep, Sammy."

"Yeah, okay."

Not another word was spoken as the darkness surrounded them. They both knew words wouldn't fix anything at this point. They both knew, no matter what happened tomorrow, no matter what the outcome was, nothing was going to be okay.


	90. Chapter 90

**CHAPTER 90**

The morning came and went in a blur. No one spoke about the impending doom that hung so heavy around them. They worked on creating a believable gun. They tried to keep their dad from being killed instantly.

John and Sam had said their goodbyes. Dean remained silent. He didn't even dare look at Bobby. His chest feeling too tight. It had been far too long since he had been on a hunt with his brother. Fear from his last two hunts filled his mind.

John had tried to get Dean to talk to him but wasn't successful. He made sure to tell him goodbye, even if Dean didn't return the farewell with words. Dean found it impossible to speak to his dad, impossible to face the possibilities ahead.

The Winchesters parted ways. John went alone and Sam and Dean were together, the exact way as it was planned. Sam had tried to engage in conversation but Dean remained locked in his own mind. He seemed to be distant from his brother even after they arrived at Salvation.

He worked with the grace of a hunter. He kept everything professional. He secretly was thankful for the company of his brother. Some how he seemed to keep him grounded. He couldn't help but keep an eye out for the hidden dangers he knew were around.

It went off without a hitch. Sure, the family with the infant may have lost their home, but at least they still had each other. Sam may have missed yellow eyes, but the it was the small victory that mattered. The small victory that made Dean wish someone would have done the same for them.

Meg was captured. They had brought her back to Bobby's. They questioned her and exercised the demon from her body. Their dad was missing, again. And she was the only one who would have answers of his whereabouts.

Dean wasn't sure why, but he wasn't able to accept it when she insisted he was dead. Finally, before it was all over, she was able to tell them the truth. He was still alive. He was being held by demons.

It didn't take the boys long to locate their dad. It took them an even shorter time to hatch a plan on how to save him without endangering innocent lives. They didn't expect to use a bullet to kill a black-eyed demon. But Dean didn't have a choice. He knew he didn't. The demon was beating his brother and there was no chance in hell Sam would win against the strength of the man beating on him.

They had done everything they could to make sure their dad wasn't possessed. Sam made sure of that. Dean was willing to overlook it, but after the current events, Sam made sure, the best he could, that John was okay to untie when they located him. He passed the tests and Dean wasted no time freeing his dad from the grips of hell.

They found a run-down hunter's cabin to stay the night. It was late. They were all three exhausted. Dean made sure their dad was resting in the only bedroom the cabin held. Sam salted the windows and doors. They both worked to make sure they were as protected as they could be.

The one thing they didn't count on was the fact their dad was already possessed. He had been possessed since they boys found him. The yellow eyed demon was stronger than their simple tests. He was able to pass them with flying colors. He laughed at their ignorance in his strength.

Here they were, being held against opposite walls by an unseen force. The colt laying on the table between them, unable to be touched. The demon made his presence known to the boys. He stood in front of them, controlling John's body. The unseen force the demon kept them restrained with only tightened with each attempt at movement.

"I want to know why!" Sam grunted between clenched teeth.

"You mean why I killed Mommy, and pretty little Jess?" The demon mocked.

"Yeah."

"Because they were in the way of my plans for you, and all the children like you."

"And Dean?"

The demon laughed as he made his way back to Dean. He reached and grabbed Dean between his legs. Dean flinched and tightened his jaw. "Oh, Dean-o here, he's been so much fun! I sure am glad I decided to kill him in a different way." The demon gave a tight squeeze before releasing him and turning back toward Sam. "Don't you think so, Sam?"

"Looks like you did a piss pore job on the killing part." Dean ground out.

The demon turned back toward him. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Oh, Dean of little faith. I'm not finished yet! In fact, I've just begun."

Dean couldn't hold back the fear that filled him. He wanted to run. He wanted this entire scene playing in front of him to end. "Yeah? Then what are you waiting for?"

"I forgot." The demon hummed as he pressed John's body against Dean's. "You enjoy daddy, don't you?" He ground John's crotch against his leg as he rubbed Dean with his palm. "You know, Dean." The demon continued to mock as he increased the violation. "I'm pretty sure that makes you a freak." He laughed as he spun Dean so his chest was pressed against the wall and his pants to his ankles.

"No. Please." Dean practically cried out.

"What's the matter? Afraid you're going to like it too much?" The demon laughed as he forced his fingers inside.

"Dad. Please." Dean begged.

"You think Daddy's gonna save you?" The demon laughed.

Dean cried out in pain as the demon continued to force pain upon him. He made sure to remind Dean of every single assault that had taken place since he had decided to make his life a living hell.

"Tell me, Dean, does this make you think of all the men who put their fingers inside you?" The demon hummed in his ear. "I can read daddy's mind. I know what you've told him." He laughed. "Is this the way it was when you would spend your nights making money for daddy and Sam?"

"Go to hell!" Dean spit out.

The demon laughed. "Not without you." He dropped John's pants and pressed his thickening part against Dean. "This is what you want, isn't it?"

Dean released a growl between his gritted teeth.

"Do you like it? Huh, Dean? You can tell Daddy. It's okay." The demon mocked as he pushed inside.

"You're not my dad!"

"That's what you told the nice man who captured you and Sammy too, isn't it?"

"Shut up!"

"What's the matter? Didn't you enjoy it? I thought you would. I set it up special for you." The demon pushed hard into Dean. "No matter, I enjoyed it for you."

Dean's breathing increased with the force of the demon against him, inside him.

"Did you enjoy the continuous sex better? I bet you never told Sammy all about that, did you?" The demon smiled as he looked back at Sam. "See, Sam, your brother here, he became a real pro at fucking guys."

"Shut up!" Dean yelled out.

"Sure, at first he hated it. Or at least he acted like he did. I'm not sure if it was real or an act. Guess it really doesn't matter." The demon ignored Dean's shout as he continued talking to Sam while he used as much force as he could to painfully rape Dean.

"He tried to fight them; I'll give him that. They had to give him some pretty serious punishments." The demon grabbed Dean's hair, pulling his head back against his shoulder. "I wonder who's punishment was worse? Theirs or Daddy's?"

Dean snarled his lips but wasn't able to make a sound. The demon pressed his lips against Dean's before pushing his face into the wall and releasing his head from his grips.

"Anyhow." The demon continued. "They beat the hell outta him. They tried to make it enjoyable for him. They gave him the best drugs and kept him drunk. But your brother wouldn't have anything to do with it. The only thing he wanted to do was fight against them. You know, I'd say that's all the proof one needs to know he enjoys the pain. Did Daddy have you enjoying the pain he'd cause you when you were younger?"

He paused to release a grunt with the force he slammed against Dean. Dean had remained as quiet as he could until he couldn't hold in the small whimper of pain with the unexpected force.

"Mmmmm. Dean. You're still so good." The demon hummed.

"Shut up!" Dean spit out through the puffs of breath he was fighting to breathe.

"They all loved fucking your brother, Sam." The demon continued. "There's just something about him that's so enjoyable! He had one man after another. They didn't really stop. Sure, he would pass out and they would have to stop the sex for the punishments, but once the men found out how good he was, it never really stopped."

The demon paused to look at what he was doing. He concentrated on adding fingers around John's penis. He forced them inside, causing Dean to cry out in pain.

"There. That's better." The demon laughed. "Feels good, doesn't it? Tell me, does it remind you of when you were there?" He mocked in Dean's ear. "Right now, does it hurt as bad as my friend did? Which one hurts worse? Me or him?" The demon taunted.

Dean didn't answer. He couldn't answer. His jaw was ground tight against itself. His face pressed against the wall in an attempt to muffle his cries. Tears ran from his eyes. His hands tightened into fists. His eyes squeezed as tight as they could close.

"You know, Sam." The demon continued to talk. "I had to find my friend in the depths of hell. It wasn't easy. I wasn't even sure who I was looking for. But I knew I'd find someone who could cause the pain I wanted your brother to experience, and I wasn't disappointed."

"Why?" Sam questioned through the anger that was building inside him.

"Why did I want to cause him pain? Well, because it's fun, of course."

The demon forced another finger inside causing Dean to release a cry of pain. His body trembled as he was forced to remain pressed against the wall.

"Mmmm." He licked Dean's ear. "I think I just felt your skin tear. Did I, Dean? Is that what I felt?"

"Go. To. Hell." Dean forced the words out between the shock waves of pain.

"Oh, Dean, you know I've already been there, and back. But I could go back and get my friend if that's what you really want."

"Dad! Please." Dean cried out and the demon increased the pain.

"I told you, Dad can't help you right now. But, I'm not sure how much longer I can make his body hold out before he shoots his load. So, tell me, Dean. Do you want it up your ass or in your mouth? Which one do you like best?"

Dean growled out a mixture of frustration and pain. But he refused to play this game. He refused to give an answer. The demon only laughed at his lack of response.

"I'm sure Dean didn't think he would survive the pain from my friend the first time." The demon continued to talk as he forced more pain upon Dean, leaving him crying painful tears. "Did you?" He directed his speech back at Dean. "Did it hurt like it does right now? You know, I could always make it hurt worse. I could make it impossible for you to walk for a long time. I could make sitting the most painful thing imaginable."

The demon laughed with his twisted ideas as Dean screamed out with the mixture of the demon's entire hand being forced inside him and John's body giving out in an explosive orgasm at the same time.

Dean was never so thankful for the unseen force that held him to the wall. He was sure with the sudden shock of pain that shot through him that he would have collapsed if not for the force holding him. He wanted this to be over, but didn't want to cause himself anymore pain or punishment from not being strong.

As soon as the demon was finished with John's body, he spun Dean back around so his back was pressed against the wall. He hadn't removed his hand from inside of him. That was far too pleasurable for the demon at the moment.

"Dad, please, don't let it kill me." Dean sobbed out in desperation the moment he was able to see his dad's face again.

The sudden rush through John's body left the demon in a moment of weakness. Between the weakened moment and Dean's desperate cry John's eyes blinked and changed from yellow to the color of John. He quickly pulled his hand from his son. Dean was unable to hold back the crying scream of pain.

With the sudden noise behind him, the demon took back the control it once had and spun around to see what the commotion was. Shock ran through him as he turned and saw Sam standing there with the gun.

"If you kill me, you kill Daddy." The demon taunted.

"I know." Sam said as calmly as he could. He released the bullet from the barrel. It whistled through the air and landed in John's leg, causing him to fall with a grunt of pain.

Dean's hold was released and he collapsed to the floor against the wall.

"Dean. Oh god, Dean." Sam ran to his brother's side.

"Where's Dad?"

"He's right there." Sam pointed to the pile on the floor.

"Check on him."

"Dean."

"Check on him, Sammy."

Sam carefully stood and made his way to his dad.

"Sammy!" John gasped. "Shoot me! Kill it!" John begged.

"Don't you do it!" Dean cried out.

"Sammy, do it." John ordered. "You shoot me. Finish this. Don't let it get to Dean again. I can't hold it back much longer."

Sam lowered the gun. "I… I can't. I'm sorry, Dad. I can't."

John struggled to stand. He struggled to quickly grab the gun from Sam's hands.

"Dad! No!" Dean cried out.

The ringing of the gunshot bounced off the walls of the cabin. The lightening that shot through John's body sounded like sizzling in their ears. It looked like slow motion. The now lifeless body had fallen to its knees before falling backwards onto the floor. A fresh hole in the center of its forehead.

Both boys remained still, shock filling them in its own way. Neither of them ever expected their dad to sacrifice himself. They never expected him to exchange his life for Dean's. They both knew the only way for Dean to live, the only way for him to be free from the torture was to kill the demon who was causing it. But they never expected the demon to be possessing their dad when it was killed. They never expected their dad to turn the gun on himself.

Sam never expected the man he always questioned if he cares about them to make the ultimate sacrifice. He never expected him to make sure his boys would forever be okay. He never expected the demon to be gone. Dead. Over. He knew there were more dangers out there. He knew there were more monsters to hunt.

But, most importantly, he knew Dean would be okay. He would live to see another day. He could live without the fear of the demon who had caused so much grief. His brother had a chance again. He had a chance at life. He had a chance at healing. He had a chance at happiness.

Dean, of course, didn't feel the same way. But, no one would ever know how he truly felt. No one would know because he would never speak of it. He would lock it away like a bad memory. He would lock it away with the past year of his life. He would push it away like a bad nightmare. Ignore what had just happened in front of him.

The brothers stood side by side. The darkened skies around them. The glow of the fire lighting their faces. Sam had said some final farewells to the hunter in front of them. The hunter who gave them life. The hunter who exchanged his life for theirs. The hunter they knew only as "Dad".

They stood and watched the body disappear in a hunter's funeral. The body destroyed. The only way to be sure they would fully rest in peace.

Dean remained leaned against the nearby tree for support, he didn't speak. Sam wondered if that's the same way it was when he watched their mom burn. The silence more comfortable than the speech. The silence filling the void he felt.

It didn't hit Sam until this very moment that his big brother had watched the yellow eyed demon take both of his parents. He had watched them both die. It was a realization that Sam wished he could change, make better, but knew he couldn't.

Once the fire had died to ashes Dean pushed off the tree and walked toward his car. Sam silently picked up the items that sat beside him and followed his brother. He carefully placed everything in their place in the trunk and slammed it closed. Dean was already sitting behind the wheel of his Baby. Sam wondered if he would be okay to drive but figured it best not to push his brother right now. Instead, he just took his seat beside Dean.

"You okay?" Sam finally questioned.

"Don't. Just don't." Dean whispered out as he started the engine and started driving away.

"What the hell man!" Sam shouted as Dean suddenly swerved the car to the side of the road.

"You didn't just see that?"

"See what Dean?"

"It was like the world just blinked."

"Uh, dude, I think you need some sleep. You're starting to sound a bit crazy."

"You can not tell me you didn't just see that!"

"I didn't just see what ever it is you're talking about."

"Man." Dean wiped a hand down his face. "I know I'm not just imagining things. Watch, its like the outside of this car is a messed-up movie screen. It's like it keeps getting static and going in and out. Watch, Sammy, just watch."

"Look, Dean, I know you're going through a rough time right now, with everything that just happened and losing Dad and all, but seriously, you're starting to sound crazy."

"You don't think I don't know I sound crazy? Sammy! You're not even looking!"

"Because there's nothing to look at."

"Yes, there is! Look, it just did it again!"

"D… De… Dean… Thhhere's… there's…"

"Dude, what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Thhheree…. There'sss… nnn… nothing.. ing… ing…"

"Sam, you're sounding like a broken robot… Sam? Man, this isn't funny. I'm seriously starting to get a little freaked out! Why the hell are you blinking in and out now?"

Sam didn't reply as his body continued to be there one moment, then gone the next, then back again as it shifted back into focus.

"Sam? Sam! Sammy! What… what the hell, man. Sa… Sam!"

Dean repeated his brother's name, his own thoughts and voice seemed to be shifting in and out as he fought to remain in control.

"Let it go, Dean. Just stop fighting it." Sam seemed to whisper without moving his mouth.

"What? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Come back to me. Please. It's okay. It's all going to be okay."

 **To Be Continued….**


End file.
